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HE IS LIFTED ON THEIR SHOULDERS AND BORNE DOWN THE ROAD 


CADET DAYS 


H Stor? of Meot point 


BY 

CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A. 

\\ 

(brigadier-general, u.s.y.) 

AUTHOR OF 

“a war-time wooing” “between the lines” 
“campaigning with crook” etc. 



* > * 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 



5 *! C L ^ 

« *■* 


Tl. 2 


Replacement 







Copyright, 1894, by Harpbk & Brothers. 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

I K-U 


A MOTHER 


WHO GAVE HER ONLY SON TO OUR ARMY, WHO LIVED FOR HIM 
THROUGH TRIAL TO FINAL TRIUMPH, AND WHO EVEN IN 
HER SADDEST DAYS, BROUGHT HOPE TO OTHER 
HEARTS AND SUNSHINE TO OTHER HOMES 
THIS STORY OF CADET LIFE 


fis finscnbetJ 



* 


« 


\ 






V- 





4 









ILLUSTRATIONS’ 


“he is lifted on their shoulders and 


BORNE DOWN THE ROAD” . . . 

• • 

Frontispiece 

“FOLLOWING A GUIDE WHO KNEW EVERY 



INCH OF THE WAY” 


Facing p. 

16 

“A SENTRY GLANCED AT HIM KEENLY ” 

• • 

a 

30 

THE AWKWARD SQUAD 


tt 

40 

PLEBE DRILL 


tt 

58 

ON GUARD DUTY 


it 

92 

“'WHO COMES THERE?’” 


a 

104 

“WOODS’S FRIEND APPEARED AT THE 

TENT 

it 


door” 


u 

116 

“the RIFLE WAS BROUGHT IN BY A DRUM-BOY 



orderly” 


a 

146 

'"i WANT YOU TO COME AND WALK WITH ME,’ 



CONNELL SAID” 


tt 

180 

“'l’LL TAKE NO MORE DEMERIT ON OTHER 



men’s account’” 


tt 

190 

ON SPECIAL DUTY OVER PLEBES . . . 

• • 

tt 

208 

“THE SKIRMISH DRILLS WERE FULL OF SPIRIT 



AND INTEREST” 


tt 

224 

'"BUT IT’S PROUD I AM TO SALUTE YE, 

SIR,’ 



SAID THE VETERAN” 


tt 

232 

“GEORDIE, AMES, AND CONNELL WENT 

OVER 



TO LOOK ON AND HEAR THE MUSIC” 

• • 

tt 

246 

“AND SEE HER BOY AT THE HEAD OF 

THE 



FIRST PLATOON” 


tt 

288 


FIRST PLATOON 
























CADET DAYS: 


A STORY OF WEST POINT 


CHAPTER I 

“ Pops, there’s no use talking; we’ve simply got 
to send you to the Point.” 

“ I’m sure I wish you could, Colonel. Father’s 
tried every way he could think of, but cadetships 
don’t go a-begging — out here, at least. The 
President has only one or two ‘at large’ ap- 
pointments this year, and there were over a 
thousand applications for them.” 

“Well, have you tried Mr. Pierce, the Con- 
gressman for this district?” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, tried him long ago. He was 
very polite — Congressmen always are. He asked 
me to go round and get all the signatures to my 
application I possibly could, and kept me running 
for six weeks or so. Then he gave it to Mr. 
Breifogle’s son.” 

Colonel Belknap smiled. “Yes, I remember 


2 


hearing,” said he, reflectively, tapping his spurred 
boot-heel with his riding-switch and critically 
eying the sturdy young fellow who stood re- 
spectfully before him. George Graham, the post 
surgeon’s eldest son, was just seventeen, of me- 
dium height, wiry and athletic in build, with 
deep chest and broad shoulders, with close-curl- 
ing brown hair, with big, frank, steady blue 
eyes, and a complexion that w T as probably fair 
enough in his baby days, but now was so tanned 
by sun and wind that the down just sprout- 
ing on his cheeks and upper lip seemed almost 
white by contrast. A picture of boyish health, 
strength, and activity was “ Geordie,” as his 
mother ever called him in vain protest against 
the familiar “ Pops ” by which he was generally 
hailed — a pet name given him by the officers 
when he was but a “ four-year-old,” far out in 
Arizona — a boy who had been reared in the West, 
whose first playmate was a wild little Apache, 
whose earliest friends were the rough troopers 
at an isolated station ; a boy who had been taught 
to hunt and trail and shoot the Indian arrow be- 
fore he was nine ; who had ridden “ pony-back ” 
across the continent from Arizona to Kansas with 
a cavalry column before he was ten ; who had 
stalked an antelope along the Smoky Hill before 
he was twelve ; who had shot a black bear in the 
Yellowstone Mountains when he was only fif- 


3 


teen ; and raced a buffalo bull into the fords of 
Milk River within sight of the British possessions 
across latitude 49 within the following year. He 
had met and mingled with Indians of many a 
tribe. He had picked up something of the 
Apache tongue from his playmate Dick ; had vis- 
ited the Navajo Reservation, near old Fort Defi- 
ance, in Hew Mexico, and brought away as his 
very own one of their wonderful woven blankets. 
He had learned not a little of the sign-language, 
and so was able to communicate and make him- 
self understood among even the Cheyenne ur- 
chins around Fort Supply. After that his father 
had been stationed just long enough at Niobrara 
to enable Geordie to feel quite at home among 
the Ogallala and Brule Sioux, whose reservations 
were just across the Dakota line, and whose vis- 
its to the post were frequent. Then the doctor 
was ordered far up to Fort Assiniboine, where 
Pops expected to freeze, but found the summer 
days as hot as they were in Arizona, and the mos- 
quitoes worse than they were at Supply. There 
he studied the Northern Indians, and came to 
the conclusion that the Blackfeet and Gros-Ven- 
tres could not be compared favorably with the 
lithe and sinewy and marvellously active Indians 
of Arizona. Geordie swore by the Apaches. 
There were no trailers like the Tontos ; no bow- 
men or ball-players like the Hualpais. The Sioux 


4 


and Cheyennes could ride, perhaps, but all the 
Sioux in Dakota could not whip Eskeldetsee’s 
band “if you put ’em in the mountains ” — which 
was probably true. And so by the time he was 
seventeen Geordie had ridden, marched, or trav- 
elled by ambulance, stage, or rail through most 
of the great Western States and Territories; but 
from the time he was four years old he had never 
been east of Omaha, or set foot in the streets of 
a bigger town than Cheyenne. 

Nor had he ever regularly attended any school. 
There were no schools to speak of near any of 
the garrisons at which his father was stationed ; 
but Dr. Graham was a man of scholarly tastes, 
a graduate of a famous university in Scotland, 
and one who by faithful study kept abreast of 
the leading minds in his profession. People gen- 
erally led a very healthful open-air life on the 
broad Western frontier, and Dr. Graham had few 
patients to claim his time. He planned, there- 
fore, all the studies for his two boys, he himself 
hearing them recite in history, geography, and 
arithmetic, while their devoted mother, at whose 
knee they had successively learned their A B C’s, 
and whose fragile white hand had guided their 
chubby fists in the tracing of their first pot- 
hooks, was their instructor in the other rudi- 
ments. 

Kegularly, five mornings a week, the little fel- 


5 


lows were set at their books right after guard- 
mounting, and, with brief intermission, worked 
until the bugles sounded “ orderly call,” or the 
drums and fifes merrily played “ Eoast Beef of 
Old England ” at noon. No wonder they learned 
to welcome that call. Then they had their fru- 
gal luncheon. The doctor was a stanch Scotch- 
man, who believed that boyish brawn and brain 
throve better on “parritch” and milk than on 
any other pabulum. Think of boys who never 
knew the taste of candy until after they were 
twelve — to whom hot biscuit was forbidden, and 
tea and coffee tabooed ! They grew up ruddy- 
cheeked, freckle-faced, clear-eyed, sturdy-limbed, 
burly young “ Hielanders,” with marvellous ca- 
pacity for solid food, sound sleep, and active 
sports. They were better taught than most 
of the other children around the garrisons, for 
what they knew they knew well. The three 
years’ difference in their ages gave “Pops,” of 
course, too much advantage in their boyish tiffs 
and scuffles ; for boys will romp and wrestle, just 
as puppies play and kittens frolic, and these, start- 
ing in fun, close sometimes in fury ; but they for- 
get the feud as quickly as it was begun. Pops 
learned at an early age the lesson of self-restraint, 
the law of forbearance towards the younger and 
weaker brother. It was not learned intuitively, 
perhaps, but rather the reverse. The doctor was 


6 


of a famous old Scotch Presbyterian clan, with 
a wholesome faith in Calvin and the doctrine of 
original sin. His gentle wife had thought to 
convert her eldest hope by appeals to his finer 
nature, but the doctor held that there was just 
so much of the “thrawn deevil ” in every boy 
that had to be trounced out of him. It was all 
very well for Pops to tussle with his Apache 
playmate, and come home covered with dirt and 
bumps and glory, and explosive with tremendous 
tales of his personal valor — Pops would brag 
when he was young, and many another boy 
would have done the same under like conditions 
— but he was too big and strong for “ Buddie 
and so when Bud came roaring in one day to tell 
how “ Pops f wowed me down and hit me,” Pops 
owned up that it was true. Bud would meddle 
with what he and Dick were trying to make, 
and he “ just pushed him away.” Mamma grave- 
ly admonished ; but papa gave warning. It hap- 
pened again before very long, and this time the 
doctor took Pops into his den, and presently poor 
Mrs. Graham ran to the dining-room and covered 
her ears, and Buddie howled in sudden revulsion 
of feeling. The doctor seldom punished, but what 
his right hand found to do he did with all his 
might. 

“ I want you to remember this, George,” said 
he, half an hour later, “ a manly boy must be 


7 


merciful. It isn’t enough that you should make 
allowances for Buddie’s blunders, you must be 
lenient to his faults. When he is older he will 
be wiser. Meantime, the blows you strike must 
be for, not against him.” 

He needn’t have said that. Pops was far 
readier to fight for his younger brother than he 
was to worry him in the least, and he took his 
flogging sorely to heart. He was only ten at 
the time. Bud had tried him severely. He had 
begged the little fellow to desist, and finally, 
losing all patience, had violated orders and 
thumped him — not very hard, perhaps, but still 
hard enough to warrant half at least of the piti- 
ful tale the smaller boy ran to tell at once and 
at home. Geordie felt very much aggrieved at 
Bud when sent forth finally to go to his room 
and meditate on his sins and nurse his many sore 
spots ; but when he saw the misery in the little 
fellow’s face, when Bud, with fresh outburst of 
tears, threw himself into his brother’s arms, clung 
to him sobbing, and could not say for the very 
violence of his grief how he hated himself for 
telling, the reconciliation was complete, and the 
three — mother and boys — stole away up -stairs 
and had a hug and cry together all by themselves, 
and came down again an hour later much hap- 
pier after all, and quite ready to make it up with 
papa. But the doctor wasn’t there. He had 


8 


slipped out, despite the fact of its being his 
study hour, and was found at tea-time miserably 
promenading the bank of the stream half a mile 
from the post, and quite unconscious that the 
evening gun had fired. He never whipped 
Pops again ; indeed, the boy gave him no cause 
to; and he never thrashed Buddie, even when 
that unrepentant little sinner well deserved it. 
He even declined to reprimand Pops at the 
excited appeal of Mrs. Captain Yaughan, whose 
twelve-year-old son came home from the swim- 
ming-pool, five days after, with a battered coun- 
tenance, and a complaint that he had been beaten 
without cause by Pops Graham. Investigation 
of the case resulted in the fact that young 
Yaughan was trying to duck Buddie, when the 
latter’s big brother happened upon the scene. 
Between the doctor and his boys there grew up 
a sort of tacit understanding, a firmly grounded 
trust and affection, that seldom found vent in 
caress of any kind, and was rarely apparent in 
word. George shot up from sturdy boyhood 
into athletic youth with thorough faith in his 
father, who, he believed, was the best friend he 
had or could expect to have. With all his heart 
he honored him, and with all his soul he loved 
his mother. 

And now they were stationed at Fort Rey- 
nolds, with a thriving Western mining metropolis 


9 


just six miles away to the east, with hunting and 
fishing in the lofty mountains to the west, and a 
great tumbling sea of grassy prairie stretching 
away to the east and south. Geordie’s pony had 
been turned over to Bud long months ago, for 
the bigger boy could back and ride and control 
the liveliest bucker among all the bronchos in 
the cavalry stables. Officers and troopers alike 
declared that Pops was cut out for the cavalry. 
He loved a horse. He had broken and trained 
his last possession, a “cayuse” colt from the herd 
of old Two Moons, chief of the northern Chey- 
ennes. He had ridden and hunted by himself, 
or with a single trooper for a companion, all 
through the mountains that frowned across the 
western sky, rarely coming home without an 
abundant supply of venison or bear meat, and 
still faithfully kept up his studies, hoping that 
by some good-fortune he might succeed in get- 
ting an appointment to the great Military Acad- 
emy of the nation — hoping almost against hope, 
yet never desponding. At last it came, and this 
was the way of it. 

Just as the wintry winds began to blow, 
and the soldiers, turning out for roll-call at 
the break of day, began to note how the moun- 
tains seemed to be wearing their fleecy night- 
caps farther down about their ears until the 
bald peaks were covered with a glistening, spot- 


IX) 


less helmet, and the dark fringes of pine and fir 
down among the gorges and foot-hills looked all 
the blacker by contrast, there came a fresh bat- 
talion of cavalry marching into the post to re- 
lieve the th just ordered away, and Pops had 

sadly bidden adieu to the departing troops, little 
dreaming what warm friends he was destined to 
find among the new. First to arrive, with a 
single orderly in attendance, was the regimental 
quartermaster, Lieutenant Ralph McCrea, and to 
him said the quartermaster whom McCrea was 
to relieve: 

“ Mac, this young gentleman is Dr. Graham’s 
son George, our candidate for West Point. He 
knows plainscraf t, woodcraft, and mountain scout- 
ing as well as you do mathematics. He can ride 
as well as any man in my troop. Give him a 
lift in algebra and ‘ math.,’ and he’ll teach you 
all there is worth knowing about this part of 
the country.” 

The kindly young West -Pointer seemed to 
take at once to the surgeon’s blushing boy. In 
the wintry weather that speedily set in there 
was little opportunity for hunting or explora- 
tion in the mountains ; but in the long evenings 
McCrea became a frequent visitor at Dr. Graham’s 
fireside, and finding that Pops had a sound ana- 
lytical sort of brain in his curly pate, the quar- 
termaster took delight in giving him stiff prob- 


11 


lems to work out, and taught him the West 
Point system of deducing rules instead of blindly 
following without knowing why or wherefore ; 
and the friendship between them waxed and 
multiplied, and McCrea became warmly enlisted 
in the effort to secure a vacant cadetship for his 
boy friend. But knowing there was no chance 
“ at large,” as the President had already named 
his two candidates, the boy had done his best 
with the local Congressman, who, as Pops had 
said, had been most gracious and encouraging, 
but had bestowed the plum upon the son of his 
rich and influential constituent, Mr. Breifogle, 
whose brewery gave employment to over fifty 
voters. As alternate he had named the son of 
Counsellor Murphy, a lively local politician, and 
Pop’s hopes were dashed. 

Not so McCrea’s. As quartermaster his duties 
called him frequently into town, where the First 
National Bank was the depository, and where he 
kept the large fund appropriated for rebuilding 
stables and quarters that had been destroyed by 
fire the previous year. “ Neither of those young 
fellows,” said he to Dr. Graham, “ can pass the 
preliminary examination. It is by long odds 
too stiff for Breifogle mentally and for Murphy 
physically. Keep this to ourselves, and get Mr. 
Pierce to promise that George shall have the 
next vacancy. If we can get the Colonel to ask 


12 


it, Pierce will say yes, perhaps ; first because they 
served together in Virginia during the war, and 
second because he won’t think he’s promising 
anything at all. It’s his first term, and he doesn’t 
dream how hard that examination is, or how cer- 
tain Breifogle is to fail. How, if there were only 
some way we could ‘ get a pull ’ on him.” 

The way came sooner than was looked or hoped 
for. One December afternoon, just as the lights 
were peeping out here and there in the bustling 
shops of the busy Western town, and a thick, 
heavy cloud of snow was settling noiselessly upon 
roof and roadway, and all the foot-hills to the 
west were robed in white, and all the mountain 
passes deep in drifts, and the managers of the 
First National were congratulating themselves 
that their collections in the swarming mining 
settlements across the range were complete, and 
the thousands in coin and greenbacks safely 
hoarded in their vaults, and brewer Breifogle 
and two other opulent directors were seated 
with the president in the bank parlor, rubbing 
their hands over the neat balance exhibited, and 
discussing the propriety of a congratulatory de- 
spatch to Congressman Pierce, now at his post of 
duty at Washington, and the paying-teller had 
just completed the summing up of his cash ac- 
count, and the bookkeeper was stowing away his 
huge volumes, and a clerk was lugging sacks of 


13 


coin and stacks of Treasury notes into the open 
door of the vault, under the vigilant eye of the 
cashier, and the janitor had pulled down the 
shades and barred the iron shutters, and ev- 
erything spoke eloquently of business security 
and prosperity — in stepped a squad of velvet- 
footed, soft-voiced, slouch-hatted strangers, and 
in the twinkling of an eye cashier and clerk, 
tellers, book-keeper, and janitor were as com- 
pletely covered by six-shooters as the new- 
comers were with snow. It was a clear case of 
“ hands up, everybody.” Two of the party sidled 
into the parlor and stood guard over the mag- 
nates, three or four held the outer officials in 
statuesque discomfort, while two deft-handed in- 
dividuals loaded up with bills and bags of gold, 
and vanished softly as they came. Their com- 
rades gave them a start of sixty seconds, and 
then slowly and calmly backed out into the 
street, revolvers levelled to the last, and in less 
than four minutes from the moment of their 
entrance not one of the gang was in sight. 
Timing their arrival exactly, they had ridden 
into town from the northwest just at dusk, left 
their strong, spirited horses, held by accomplices 
in a side street not fifty yards away ; were in and 
out, up and away again, in less time than it takes 
to tell it, and with them ninety thousand dollars 
in cash. 


14 


Yain the rush of clerks and tellers and direc- 
tors into the snow-covered street. Yain the yells 
of “ Murder !” “ Robbers!” “ Road - agents !” A 
crowd collected in a few minutes, but all were 
afoot and powerless to follow. It would be an 
hour before the sheriff could muster a mounted 
party strong enough to pursue ; but he had his 
wits about him. t 

“ It’s the old Hatton gang, sure !” he cried. 
“ They dare not go to the mines. They’ll make 
for Harcy’s Pass, and scatter when they get to 
the cove beyond. There’s only one hope.” And 
like a deer the active frontiersman ran to the 
telegraph office. 

“ Rush this out to the fort !” he cried, as he 
pencilled a despatch. 

“ First National just robbed by Hatton gang. 
Ten men. Ninety thousand gone. Government 
funds mostly. [“That ’ll make him act,” he 
muttered.] They’re making for Marcy’s Pass. 
You can head ’em off by Squaw Canon if you 
send cavalry at once. We follow trail. Answer. 

“Brent, Sheriff.” 

Colonel Belknap, with a knot of officers, was 
in the club-room just after stables when the de- 
spatch was handed to him by the breathless oper- 
ator. He was an old campaigner, who had served 
almost a lifetime in the West. 


15 


“ Mount your troop instantly, Lane !” he called 
to one of his most trusted captains. “Never 
mind their supper; they can have that later. 
Listen to this.” And he read the despatch aloud. 

The entrance to Marcy’s Pass lay about nine 
miles nearly due west from town. Hatch’s Cove 
was a lovely nook in the summer - time, but al- 
most inaccessible in winter, lying across the range, 
and approached from the east by the old road 
through the Pass. Lance Creek, a clear and 
beautiful stream, rose in the cove and made its 
way through the range by means of a tortuous 
and wellnigh impassable gorge known as Squaw 
Canon, which opened into the foot-hills not more 
than two miles and a half away to the westward 
of Fort Reynolds. All this was promptly dis- 
cussed even as the sergeants’ voices could be 
heard ringing out the order in the barrack cor- 
ridors across the parade. 

“ Turn out, ‘ E ’ troop, lively ; carbines and re- 
volvers, fur coats and gloves. Jump now, men!” 

Down went knife and fork, cup and spoon. 
Up sprang the laughing, chaffing, boisterous 
crowd of the moment before. Away they tore 
to their bunk-room, and grabbed their great-coats 
and furs ; away to the arm-racks for carbine and 
six-shooter. Quickly they buckled the broad 
woven cartridge - belts, and then went bounding 
down the barrack stairs, forming ranks in the 


16 


softly falling snow. Double time they trotted 
down to the long, dimly lighted stables, and in 
among their astonished and snorting horses. In 
ten minutes they were trotting away to the west- 
ward through wellnigh impenetrable darkness, 
through a muffling snowfall, over an unseen 
and unknown trail, yet hesitating not a minute ; 
trotting buoyantly, confidently ahead, following 
a guide who knew every inch of the way to and 
through the canon and miles and miles beyond. 

“ Who can lead them % What scouts have you 
on your roll who know the hills ?” was the Colo- 
nel’s anxious query of his quartermaster, while 
the troop was saddling. 

“ No scouts left, sir, now ; but we don’t need 
them. Here’s Geordie Graham.” 

Yes, Pops, and the doctor too, both in saddle 
and ready ; so was McCrea, and so it happened 
that less than an hour later Luke and Jim Hat- 
ton, leaders of the band, bearers of most of the 
spoil, a hundred yards ahead of their fellows as 
they issued from the westward end of Marcy’s 
Pass, deeming themselves perfectly secure from 
any capture except from the rear, ten safe miles 
away from town, rode slap in among a whole 
troop of cavalry, and were knocked on the head, 
disarmed, dismounted, and relieved of their plun- 
der before they could fire a shot or utter a cry 
of warning. 



u 


>> 


FOLLOWING A GUIDE WHO KNEW EVERY INCH OF THE WAY 

































































17 


“We never could have got them in all the 
v^orld, sir,” said both Lane and McCrea, “but 
for Pops here. He knew the way, even in the 
dark, and we headed them off in the nick of 
time.” 

It was this service that called forth Colonel 
Belknap’s remarks at the head of this chapter. 
It was this that prompted him to say to the 
officers of the First National next day that the 
least they could do was to telegraph the Hon- 
orable Mr. Pierce, M.C., urging him to promise 
that the next vacancy at West Point should be 
filled by George Montrose Graham. It was the 
despatch signed by these officials and a dozen 
leading citizens — for McCrea struck while the 
iron was hot, and took the paper around himself — 
that caused Mr. Pierce to wire his pledge in re- 
ply. And one day in February there came a 
note to Dr. Graham’s, saying that Counsellor 
Murph} r had been convinced by the leading 
medical practitioner in town that his boy could 
never pass the physical examination at the Point, 
and would better be turning his talents to some 
other channel, and then Colonel Belknap re- 
minded Mr. Pierce of his promise, and Pierce 
was caught. On Valentine’s Day in 18 8-, to 
Geordie Graham’s speechless joy and Buddie’s 
enthusiastic delight, a big official envelope of 
the War Department was placed in the former’s 


18 


hand. He knew what it meant. He went over 
and threw his arms around his mother’s neck 
and bent and kissed her, for her loving eyes 
were swimming in tears. 


CHAPTER n 


Among the formal official documents in the 
envelope which brought such delight to the 
Graham family was one giving in detail the 
qualifications necessary to secure the admission 
of a candidate to West Point. He was sub- 
jected soon after his arrival, so said the papers, 
to a rigid physical examination by a board of 
experienced surgeons. Glancing over the array 
of causes of disqualification, it was apparent to 
the doctor that an absolutely perfect physique 
was necessary, but on all these points he felt 
well assured. As to other qualifications, the age 
for admission of cadets to the Academy was 
stated to be between seventeen and twenty-two 
years. Candidates must be unmarried, at least 
five feet in height, free from any infectious or 
immoral disorder, and generally from any de- 
formity, disease, or infirmity which might in the 
faintest degree render them unfit for military 
service. They must be well versed in reading, 
in writing, including orthography, in arithmetic, 
and have a knowledge of the elements of Eng- 
lish grammar, of descriptive geography, particu- 


20 


larly of our own country, and of the history of 
the United States. That seemed simple enough. 
On all these points Geordie, as well as his father, 
had no doubt whatever. “ Sound as a dollar” 
was the universal verdict, and the wisdom of his 
father’s rigid system of training was all the more 
apparent. But when they came to look over 
the formidable list of specimens of the problems 
and questions which the candidates were required 
to solve and answer, the boy’s heart failed him 
a little. Even McCrea shook his head over some 
of them. 

“ It is ten years since I went up for my exam- 
ination, just as you are to go, Pops — an army 
boy who had had precious little schooling ; but 
I don’t remember any problems as hard as this 
one.” And the Quartermaster wrinkled his brows 
over a complicated example, while Captain Lane, 
poring over a big atlas, was hunting for a chain 
of mountains he could not remember ever before 
having heard of. 

“ It seems a queer confession,” said the latter, 
“ but I don’t believe I could begin to pass the en- 
trance examination to the Academy, from which 
I was graduated so many years ago. I certainly 
couldn’t without months of preparation.” 

The Colonel suggested that perhaps these hard 
nuts were ladled out in order to stimulate the 
candidate to closer study. The questions really 


21 


propounded would not be so difficult. But the 
doctor and McCrea were determined to take no 
chances. 

“ There are only three months left for prepa- 
ration/’ said Graham ; “ the question is how to 
employ the time to best advantage. George is 
willing to study hard, and you and I to teach, 
but what I’m thinking is that we may be wast- 
ing time on immaterial points and neglecting 
some that are essential. Would it not be best to 
send him on and have him study under some one 
who knows just exactly what is needed 

And McCrea said, “Yes,” and wrote forthwith 
to an old friend, an officer whom severe wounds 
had incapacitated for active service, and who 
had opened a school of preparation at the Point 
adapted to the needs of candidates for admission. 
And so it resulted that early in April, for the 
first time in his life, Geordie Graham was to 
leave father, mother, and Bud, and, for the first 
time since he was a mere baby-boy, to set foot 
across the Missouri. 

Over that farewell we need not linger. How 
many big, salty tears were dropped into the 
depths of the trunk no one on earth but the lov- 
ing mother who packed it could ever tell. Yet 
even now, face to face with the inevitable sepa- 
ration, not one word would she say that might 
cast a shadow over the hopes of her big boy, as 


22 


she spoke of Geordie as a means of distinguish- 
ing him from Bud, her “ little Benjamin.” Fond- 
ly had she hoped that as he grew older Geordie’ s 
tastes would turn to some other profession, but 
she hoped in vain. First, last, and all the time, 
ever since the troopers at Verde decorated him 
with his Corporal’s chevrons when he was a mite 
of a four-year-old, the longing of his heart was 
to be a soldier. For boys with that ambition 
there is no school like West Point ; for boys with- 
out it, any other school would be better. 

“ There isn’t a man in all ‘ E ’ troop that isn’t 
sorry to have you leave the fort, Geordie,” said 
old Sergeant Nolan, as the boy went the rounds 
at afternoon stables, bidding his friends good- 
bye, and taking a farewell look at his favorite 
horses ; “ but what’s more, sir,” he added, with a 
respectful touch of the cap visor as Captain Lane 
appeared, “ there isn’t a man but that’s glad he’s 
going to West Point, and that wouldn’t like to 
see him with us again as our Lieutenant.” 

“ But I’m not in yet, Sergeant,” laughed Geor- 
die. “ There is Mr. Breifogle to be considered. 
If he passes, there’ll be no room for me ; and if 
he fails, why, I may too. In that event, I’ll have 
to come back and ’list just as soon as I’m eigh- 
teen.” 

And yet Geordie felt no such misgiving as 
he sat silently in the dark corner of the ambu- 


23 


lance, choking down some troublesome lumps 
that had risen in his throat, and made his eyes 
blind as his mother’s arms were unclasped about 
his neck. The principal of the school which young 
Breifogle had been attending for two years had 
told Mr. McCrea that the boy was neither apt nor 
studious, that he had twice failed in his exami- 
nations for promotion to higher grade, and that 
only after infinite pains and much help had he 
been able to answer the sample questions en- 
closed with his letter of appointment. When 
asked why old Mr. Breifogle did not withdraw 
his son from a race in which he had no chance, 
the master laughed. 

“ Breifogle is like a great many of our people 
who have become suddenly rich,” said he. “ He 
thinks money and a political pull will do any- 
thing. He refuses to believe that West Point is 
governed by rules that even the President can- 
not violate. He is confident that all that is nec- 
essary is for him to go on with Fritz in June, and 
the examiners will not dare reject him, especially 
if Congressman Pierce is there, too.” 

How this was no exaggeration. Mr. Breifogle 
really thought it a very unjustifiable thing in an 
army officer, supporting a family on so small a 
salary, to undergo the expense of sending George 
all the way to West Point and back, for back he 
felt sure he would have to come. It was still 


24 


worse to send him ahead of time and pay board 
and school bills. He and Fritz would not go until 
June. 

“Pm really sorry for the old fellow,” said 
McCrea ; “ he’s so thoroughly earnest and honest 
in his convictions. It isn’t his fault, either. It 
is part of the stock in trade of many politicians 
to make their constituents believe that for the 
benefit of their special friends they have it in 
their power to set aside laws, rules, or regulations. 
I haven’t a doubt that Pierce has made the old 
man believe he ‘ stands ’ in with the Secretary of 
War and the Superintendent of the Academy, and 
that Fritz will go through West Point with fly- 
ing colors. It will cost Breifogle nearly a thou- 
sand dollars to find out his mistake.” 

This was several years ago, it must be remem- 
bered, in the days when all candidates were re- 
quired to present themselves for examination at 
the Point instead of appearing before boards of 
army officers at convenient garrisons throughout 
the country, as is the case to-day. 

“ Ho, Geordie, my boy,” said McCrea, in con- 
clusion, “ I don’t like to take comfort in another 
man’s misfortunes, but there is no chance what- 
ever for young Breifogle and every chance for 
you. All you have to do is study and you’ll 
win. I have said as much to the old man, for he 
stopped me at the bank the other day and asked 


25 


what I thought of the case, and I told him 
frankly. For a moment he looked downcast ; 
then he brightened up all of a sudden, laid his 
finger alongside his nose, and winked at me 
profoundly. ‘ Yell, you yust vait a leetle,’ he 
said, and turned away. I’ve no doubt he thinks 
I’m only trying to bluff him out in your inter- 
est.” 

Two days more, and George, standing on the 
rear platform of the Pullman, looking down with 
no little awe upon the swollen, turbid, ice-whirl- 
ing waters of the Missouri, far beneath the 
splendid spans of the great railway bridge. An- 
other day, and his train seemed to be rolling 
through miles of city streets and squares before 
it was finally brought to a stand under the grimy 
roof of the station at Chicago. Here from the 
windows of the rattling omnibus that bore him 
across the town to the depot of the Michigan 
Central he gazed in wonderment at the height 
of the buildings on every side. Early the next 
morning he was up and dressed, and just before 
sunrise stepped out on the wooden staging at 
Falls Yiew, listening to the voice and seeing for 
the first time the beauty and grandeur of Niag- 
ara. A few minutes later, looking from the car 
window, he seemed to be sailing in mid-air over 
some tremendous gorge, in whose depths a broad 
torrent of deep green water, flecked with foam 


26 


and tossing huge crunching masses of ice, went 
roaring away beneath him. Such a letter as he 
wrote to mother that morning, as hour after 
hour he sped along eastward over bands of glis- 
tening steel, flying like the wind, yet so smooth- 
ly that his pen hardly shook. Think what a rev- 
elation it must have been to that frontier-bred 
boy, whose whole life had been spent among the 
mountains or prairies of the Far West, to ride all 
the morning long through one great city after 
another, through the heart of Buffalo, Rochester, 
Syracuse, Utica, and Albany. The Mohawk Val- 
ley seemed one long village to him, so unaccus- 
tomed were his eyes to country thickly settled. 
The Hudson, still fettered with ice above the rail- 
way bridge and just opening below, set his heart 
to beating, for now West Point lay but a hundred 
miles away. How the train seemed to whiz 
along those bold, beautiful shores, undulating at 
first, but soon becoming precipitous and rocky ! 
Many people gazed from the westward windows 
at the snow-covered Catskills as the afternoon 
began to wane; but Geordie had seen mountains 
beside which these were but hillocks. The clus- 
tering towns, the frequent rush of engines and 
cars, the ever-increasing bustle, however, im- 
pressed him greatly. Every now and then his 
train fairly shot past stations where crowds of 
people stood waiting. 


“ Didn’t they want to get on ?” he asked the 
Pullman porter. 

“ Oh yes, sir, wanted to bad ’nough ; but, Lord 
bless you, dis train don’t stop for them : they has 
to wait for the locals. We runs a hundred trains 
a day along here. Dis train don’t even stop 
where you gets off, sir ; that’s why you have to 
change at Poughkeepsie, the only place we stop 
between Albany and New York.” 

Surely enough, they rolled in presently under 
lofty bluffs under a bridge so high in the air 
that its trusses looked like a spider-web, and then 
stopped at a station thronged with people ; and 
Pops, feeling not a little bewildered, found him- 
self standing with his hand luggage, looking 
blankly after the car that had borne him so com- 
fortably all the way from Chicago, and now dis- 
appeared in the black depths of the stone-faced 
tunnel to the south, seeming to contract like a 
leaking balloon as it sped away. Hardly was it 
out of sight when another train slid in to replace 
it, and everybody began tumbling aboard. 

66 This for Garrisons ?” he asked a bearded offi- 
cial in blue and brass buttons. 

A nod was the answer. Kailway men are too 
busy to speak; and Pops followed the crowd, 
and took a seat on the river-side. The sun was 
well down to the westward now ; the Hudson 
grew broader, blacker, and deeper at every turn ; 


28 


the opposite shores cast longer shadows ; the elec- 
tric lights were beginning to twinkle across the 
wide reach at Newburg ; then a rocky islet stood 
sentinel half-way across to a huge rounded rock- 
ribbed height. The train rushed madly into an- 
other black tunnel, and came tearing forth at the 
southern end, and Pops’s heart fairly bounded in 
his breast. Lo! there across the deep narrow 
channel towered Crow’s Nest and Storm King. 
This was the heart of the Highlands. Never 
before had he seen them, yet knew them at a 
glance. What hours had he not spent over 
the photograph albums of the young graduates ? 
Another rush through rocky cuts, and then a 
smooth, swift spin around a long, gradual curve, 
lapped by the waters of the Hudson, and there, 
right before his eyes, still streaked with snow, 
was West Pointy the flag just fluttering from its 
lofty staff at the summons of the sunset gun. 

Ten minutes later and the ferry-boat was pad- 
dling him across the river, almost the only pas- 
senger. The hush of twilight had fallen. The 
Highlands looked bare and brown and cheerless 
in their wintry guise. Far away to the south 
the crags of Dunderberg were reverberating with 
the roar of the train as it shot through Anthony’s 
Nose. The stars were just beginning to peep 
out here and there in the eastern sky, and a pal- 
lid crescent moon hung over against them in the 


29 


west. All else was dark and bleak. The spell 
of the saddest hour of the day seemed to chill 
the boy’s brave heart, and for the first time a 
homesick longing crept over him. This was the 
cheery hour at the army fireside, far out among 
the Rockies — the hour when they gathered about 
the open hearth and heaped on the logs, and 
mother played soft, sweet melodies at the piano, 
often the songs of Scotland, so dear to them all. 
Pops couldn’t help it ; he was beginning to feel 
a little blue and cold and hungry. One or two 
passengers scurried ashore and clambered into 
the yellow omnibus, waiting there at the dock as 
the boat was made fast in her slip. 

“ Where do you go ?” asked the driver of the 
boy. 

“ Send my trunk up to the hotel,” said Geordie, 
briefly. “ Pm going to walk.” 

They had figured it all out together before he 
started from home, he and Mr. McCrea. “The 
battalion will be coming in from parade as you 
reach the Point, Geordie, if your train’s on time.” 
And the boy had determined to test his knowl- 
edge of topography as learned from the maps he 
had so faithfully studied. Slinging his bag into 
the ’bus, he strode briskly away, crossed the 
tracks of the West Shore Road, turned abruptly 
to his right, and breasted the long ascent, the 
stage toiling behind him. A few minutes’ uphill 


30 


walk, and the road turned to the left near the 
top of the bluff. Before him, on the north, was 
the long gray massive facade of the riding-hall ; 
before him, westward, another climb, where, quit- 
ting the road, he followed a foot-path up the 
steep and smoothly rounded terrace, and found 
himself suddenly within stone’s-throw of the very 
buildings he sought. At the crest of the gentle 
slope to the north, the library with its triple 
towers ; to its left, the solid little chapel ; close 
at hand to his right front, the fine headquarters’ 
building; beyond that, dim and indistinct, the 
huge bulk of the old academic building ; and di- 
rectly ahead of him, its great windows brilliantly 
lighted, a handsome gray stone edifice, with its 
arched doorway and broad flight of steps in the 
centre — the cadet mess -hall, as it used to be 
termed, the Grant Hall of to-day. His pulses 
throbbed as he stepped across the road and stood 
on the flag-stones beneath the trees. A sentry 
sauntering along the walk glanced at him keenly, 
but passed him by without a word. 

Suddenly there rose on the still evening air 
the tramp of coming soldiery, quick and alert, 
louder and louder, swifter than the bounding of 
his heart and far more regular. Suddenly through 
the broad space between the academic and the 
north end of the mess-hall, straight as a ruler, 
came the foremost subdivision, the first platoon 



Cl 




A SENTRY GLANCED AT HIM KEENLY 





31 


of Company A, and instantly in response to the 
ringing order, “Column right” from some deep 
manly voice farther towards the rear, the young 
cadet officer in front whirled about and ordered 
“Right wheel.” Another second and around 
swept the perfect line in the heavy gray over- 
coats, the little blue forage-caps pulled well down 
over the smooth-shaved, grave, yet youthful faces 
dimly seen under the gaslight. Then on they 
swept, platoon after platoon, in strong double 
rank, each in succession wheeling again steadily 
to the right as it reached the broad flight of steps, 
then breaking and bounding lightly to the top, 
every man for himself, until, one after the other, 
each of the eight subdivisions was swallowed up 
in the great hall, echoing for a moment with chat 
and laughter, the rattle of chairs, the clatter of 
knife and fork and spoon, and then the big doors 
swung to, and Pops, for the first time in his life, 
had seen the famous battalion which it was his 
most ardent wish to join. For a moment he stood 
there silent, his heart still beating high, then with 
one long sigh of mingled envy and gratification 
he turned away. 

That same evening, wasting no time after he 
had eaten a hearty supper at Craney’s, Geordie 

sought and found Lieutenant B . Everything 

had been arranged by letter ; his coming was ex- 
pected, and in a few moments the boy and his in- 


32 


structor were seated in a quiet room, and Pops’s 
preliminary examination was really begun. In 

less than an hour Mr. B had decided pretty 

thoroughly where his instruction was already sat- 
isfactory and where it was incomplete. 

“ There’s no question as to your physique, Mr. 
Graham,” said the Lieutenant, smiling to see the 
blush of shy delight with which the boy wel- 
comed the first use of the “ handle ” to his name. 
Hitherto he had been Geordie or Pops to every- 
body. “ I fancy it won’t take long to make you 
more at home in mathematics. To-morrow we’ll 
move you into your temporary quarters down at 
the Falls, and next day begin studies. There are 
several candidates on the ground already.” 

And so within the week our young plainsman 
was practically in harness, and with a dozen 
other aspirants trudging twice a day over the 
mile of road connecting the Point and the village 
below; studying hard, writing home regularly, 
hearing a great deal of information as to the an- 
tecedents and expectations of most of his new 
associates, but partly from native reticence and 
partly from due regard of McCrea’s cautions, say- 
ing little as to his past experiences, and nothing 
at all as to his hopes for the future. “ Ho mat- 
ter what you do know of actual service, Pops 
— and you have had more experience of army 
life than ninety-nine per cent, of the corps — it is 


33 


best not to ‘ let on’ that you know anything until 
you are an old cadet, even among your class- 
mates.” 

Some of his new associates Pops found conge- 
nial, some antagonistic ; but the one thing he kept 
in mind was that all were merely conditional. 
Not until after the June examination would they 
really know who were and who were not to be 
of “the elect.” “Those who are most volubly 
confident to-day,” wrote McCrea, “ are the ones 
who will be most apt to fail. Keep your own 
counsel, ‘ give every man thine ear and few thy 
voice ’ — and that’s all.” 

George had some novel experiences in those 
days of preparation, and met some odd characters 
among the boys, but as few of these had any 
bearing on his subsequent history they need not 
be dwelt upon. With only one did he strike up 
anything approximating an intimacy, and that 
was after the first of May and was unavoidable, 
because the young fellow became his room-mate, 
for one thing, and was so jolly, cheery, confident, 
and enthusiastic, for another, that Graham simply 
couldn’t help it. 

Along in May his letters had a good deal to 
say about Mr. Frazier, and by June the Falls be- 
gan to fill up with young fellows from all over 
the country. By this time the daily sight of the 
battalion at its drills and parades was perfectly 


34 


familiar to those on the ground, and yet the gulf 
between cadets and candidates seemed utterly 
unbridgable. Dr. Graham had thought it a 
good thing for Geordie to go with letters of in- 
troduction from Colonel Fellows, of Fort Union, 
to his son, a Second Class man, or from Major 
Freeland, of Bridger, whose boy was in the Third, 
but McCrea said: “No; there is just one way 
to win the respect and good-will of the corps of 
cadets,” he declared, “ and all the letters and all 
the fathers and uncles and even pretty sisters 
combined can’t win it any other way. The boy 
must earn it himself, and it isn’t to be earned in 
a month, either. Every tub stands on its own 
bottom there, doctor. The higher a fellow’s con- 
nections, the more he has to be taken down. 
Leastwise, it was so in my time, and West Point 
is deteriorating if it is any different now.” 

Strange, therefore, as it may seem, though he 
knew many a cadet by sight and name, not one 
had George Graham become acquainted with un- 
til the momentous 15th of June, when, with a 
number of other young civilians, he reported 
himself in a room in the eighth division of bar- 
racks to Cadet Lieutenant Merrick ; was turned 
over to Cadet Corporal Stone to be taken to the 
hospital for physical examination, and in one of 
the surgeons recognized an old friend of his fa- 
ther’s whom he knew in Arizona, but who appar- 


35 


ently didn’t know Geordie from Adam. One 
hundred and forty-seven young fellows entered 
the hospital hopef ully that day, and among these 
over twenty -five were rejected. Among those 
who passed was Breifogle. The old gentleman 
himself was on hand in front of the mess-hall, 
when next morning those who had passed the 
scrutiny of the surgeons were marshalled thither 
to undergo the written examination in arith- 
metic. 

Promptly, under the eye of the Professor of 
Mathematics, a number of young officers assigned 
the candidates to seats and set them at their 
tasks. Geordie felt that his face was very white, 
but he strove to think of nothing but the work 
in hand. Slowly he read over the twelve prob- 
lems on the printed page, then, carefully and 
methodically, began their solution. Long, long 
before he was through he saw Frazier rise and, 
with confident, almost careless mien, hand his 
complete work to the secretary, and saunter out 
into the sunshine- Long before he had finished 
he saw many another go, less jauntily, perhaps, 
but with quiet confidence. 

One by one most of Mr. B ’s pupils fin- 

ished inside the allotted two hours and a half ; but 
Geordie, with the thoroughness of his race, again 
and again went over his work before he was sat- 
isfied he, at least, could not improve it. Then 


36 


he arose, and trembling a bit despite himself, 
handed his paper to the silent officer. A num- 
ber, fully twenty, were still seated, some of them 
helplessly biting their pencils and looking fur- 
tively and hopelessly about them. One of these 
was Fritz Breifogle, for whom the old gentleman 
was still waiting on the walk outside. Some 
officers, noticing the father’s anxiety, had kindly 
invited him into the mess-parlor, and had striven 
to comfort him with cooling drink and a cigar. 
He was grateful, but unhappy. Already it had 
begun to dawn upon him that what he had been 
told of West Point was actually true: neither 
money nor influence could avail, and Fritz was 
still at his fruitless task when “ the hammer fell.” 

Another day and the suspense was over. A 
score more of the young fellows, who were still 
faintly hopeful at dinner-time, were missing at 
the next muster of the candidates at retreat. 
Breifogle was gone without a word to his alter- 
nate. The way was clear at last, and, more madly 
than ever, Pops’s heart bounded in his breast as 
in stern official tone Cadet Corporal Loring read 
rapidly the alphabetical list of the successful can- 
didates — George Montrose Graham among them. 


CHAPTER III 


Ajkd now, with examinations over, and noio- 
maining doubts or fears, there was probably no 
happier boy in all the “ menagerie ” than Geordie 
Graham. As for the hundred young fellows in 
civilian dress, “ herded ” three and four in each 
room, and wrestling with their first experiences 
of cadet life, it is safe to say most of the number 
were either homesick or in some way forlorn. 
Nothing so utterly destroys the glamour that 
hovers over one’s ideas of West Point as the real- 
ities of the first fortnight. Of his three room- 
mates pro tempore , Bennie Frazier had already 
announced time and again that if a beneficent 
Creator would forgive him the blunder of coming 
here at all, he’d square accounts by quitting as 
quick as he possioly could. Winn, a tall Ken- 
tuckian, wanted to resign, but was too plucky. 
Connell, a bulky young Badger, had written two 
terrific screeds to his uncle, the member from 
Pecatonica, denouncing the cadet officials as 
brutes, bullies, and tyrants, which documents 
were duly forwarded with appropriate complaint 
to the War Department, and formed the text for 


38 


a furious leader in the Pecatonica Pilot , clamor- 
ing for the abolition of West Point. The letters 
were duly referred to the Superintendent United 
States Military Academy for remark, and by him 
to the commandant of cadets, by which time Mr. 
Connell was a duly accredited high private in 
the rear rank of Company B, and had almost 
forgotten the woes of early barrack days, and 
was not a little abashed and dismayed when 
summoned before the grave, dignified Colonel 
to make good his allegations. It took him just 
ten seconds to transfer any lingering resentment 
for the cadet corporals to the avuncular M. C., 
whom with boyish inconsistency he now be- 
rated for being such a fool as to make a fuss 
about a little thing like that. Among the new 
cadets were a very few who, as sons of army offi- 
cers, knew perfectly well what they had to ex- 
pect. These and a number of young fellows who, 
like Graham, had come on months or weeks be- 
forehand and placed themselves under tuition, 
were well prepared for the ordeal of the entrance 
examinations as well as for other ordeals which 
followed. 

Even among them, however, were many who 
looked upon life with eyes of gloom. The cease- 
less routine of drill, drill, of sharp reprimand, of 
stern, unbending discipline, wofully preyed upon 
their spirits. Their hearts were as sore as their 


39 


unaccustomed muscles. Bat with Pops all was 
different. He had reached at last the goal of his 
ambition. He had won his way through many 
a discouragement to the prize of a cadetship. 
How he was ready, even eager, to be tried and 
tested in every way, to show his grit, and to prove 
his fitness for the four years’ race for the highest 
prize of all, the diploma and commission. The 
drill that made his comrades’ muscles ache was a 
bagatelle to him. From earliest boyhood he had 
watched the recruits at setting-up, and not only 
learned and practised all, but with Bud and Dick 
for his squad would often convulse the officers 
at Yerde and Supply by his imitation of Sergeant 
Feeny’s savage Hibernian manner. The cadet 
yearling who was drill -master of the four to 
which Pops was assigned saw at once that he 
had a “plebe corporal” — a young fellow who 
had been pretty well drilled — and all the more 
did he rasp him when anything went amiss. 
Many of the new-comers had been through squad- 
drill at military schools or in cadet companies, 
but never under such rigid, relentless discipline 
as this. Every cadet drill -master carried the 
steel rammer of his rifle as a drill-stick, and was 
just about as unbending as his rod of office. Poor 
Frazier was in hot- water all the time — as well as 
in the sulks. 

“ I belonged to the high-school cadets for two 


40 


years, and everybody that ever saw us drill said 
we could lay over anything in the whole country,” 
he protested, “ and now here’s this measly little 
stuck-up prig, that probably never knew anything 
about drill until he entered here last year, cor- 
recting and finding fault with everything I do. 1 
ain’t going to stand it, by thunder! I’ve writ- 
ten to my father to come on again, and just have 
this thing attended to right off.” And Frazier’s 
handsome boyish face was flushed with wrath, 
and clouded with a sense of wrong and indig- 
nity. “ It seems to me if I were in your place 
I wouldn’t stand being abused either, Graham. 
I heard Mr. Flint snapping at you again this 
morning.” 

Pops was busily engaged dusting for the tenth 
time the iron mantel-shelf and the little looking- 
glass. He half turned. “Wa-e-1,” he said, while 
a grin of amusement hovered about the corners of 
his mouth, “ Flint was all right, I guess. Your 
squad was just in front of us, and when I saw 
Connell stumble over your heels and try to climb 
up your back, I laughed out loud. He caught me 
chuckling.” 

“Yes, and abused you like a pick-pocket, by 
jingo ! If my father were an officer in the regu- 
lar army, as yours is, it wouldn’t happen twice 
to me.” 

“No, nor to me either,” chimed in Connell. 



THE AWKWARD SQUAD 




I 



41 


“ I’ll bet you he’d sing a mighty different tune if 
be knew you were the son of a Major.” 

“ Well, there’s just where you’re ’way off,” an- 
swered Geordie, after the manner of the frontier. 
“ Of all places in creation this is the one where 
one’s dad cuts no figure whatever. I’ve often 
heard old officers say that the boys who got 
plagued and tormented most in their time were 
the fellows whose fathers were generals or cab- 
inet ministers. Fred Grant wouldn’t have had 
half as hard a time if his father hadn’t been 
President. Frazier’s whole trouble comes from 
letting on that he knew all about drill before 
he got here ; that’s the truth of it. I get along 
smoothly by pretending never to have known 
anything.” 

“ Oh, a lot you have ! If that snob Loring 
ever speaks to me as he spoke to you this morn- 
ing about laughing in the ranks, I’ll — I’ll just let 
him have my fist between the eyes, and he’ll see 
more stars than he ever saw before, if he is a 
color corporal. What ’ll your father say when 
he hears that he threatened to put you in a cell 
just for laughing when that Pike County fellow 
knocked his hat off trying to salute ?” 

“ Well, he didn’t say cell, in the first place, and 
father wouldn’t hear it from me, at least, if he 
had. It’s an understood thing at home that 
they’re to ask no questions, and I’m to tell no 

4 


43 


tales until plebe camp is over and done with. 
Plebes don’t begin to have the hard times now 
that they had thirty years ago, and if they could 
stand it then, I can now. All you’ve got to do is 
simply make up your mind to grin and bear it ; 
do just as you’re told, and say nothing about it. 
If this thing worries you now, when only our drill- 
masters and instructors get at us, what are you 
going to do, Frazier, when you’re marched over 
there into camp next week and turned over to 
the tender mercies of the whole corps ?” 

“ I’m going to fight the first man that offers 
me an indignity of any kind, by thunder !” 

Geordie burst into one of his merry laughs, just 
as a light foot came bounding up the iron stair- 
way. Bang ! A single knock at the door. Up 
sprang the four boys, heels and knees together, 
heads up, eyes straight to the front, arms and 
hands braced against the sides, the palms of the 
latter turned outward as far as the youngsters 
could force them and thereby work their shoulders 
back, each young fellow facing the centre of the 
bare and cheerless room. Enter Cadet Corporal 
Loring, his jaunty gray coat fitting like wax, not 
a crease nor a wrinkle anywhere, every one of 
his three rows of bell buttons glistening, his gold 
chevrons gleaming, his white collar, cuffs, gloves, 
and trousers simply immaculate, everything so 
trig and military, all in such wondrous contrast to 


43 


the sombre garb of the four plebes. His clear- 
cut face is stern and dignified. 

“ What is the meaning of all this noise ?” he 
asks. “ Who was laughing as I came in ?” 

“ I was, sir,” promptly answers Graham. 

“ You again, Mr. Graham ? This is the third 
time since reveille I’ve had to reprimand you for 
chuckling like a school-boy — twice in ranks, and 
now again at inspection. What were you laugh- 
ing at this time, sir?” inquired Mr. Loring, ma- 
jestically. 

“ At something Frazier said, sir.” 

“Mr. Frazier, sir. Never omit the handle to 
a gentleman’s name on duty or in official inter- 
course. Only among yourselves and off duty can 
you indulge in familiarity ; never , sir, in conver- 
sation with superior officers.” (Oh, the immensi- 
ty of distance between the plebe and the year- 
ling corporal!) “And you are room orderly, 
too, Mr. Graham, and responsible for the ap- 
pearance of things. Where should the broom 
be, sir ?” 

“ Behind the door, sir.” 

“ Then where is it, sir ?” 

And for the first time poor Pops sees that in 
the heat of argument, Frazier, dusting off his 
shoes with that implement, had left it across the 
room in the alcove. Still, it was his own busi- 
ness to see that it was in place, so he had noth- 


44 


ing to say beyond, “ I didn’t notice it until just 
now, sir.” 

“Exactly, Mr. Graham; if you had been at- 
tending to your duty instead of giggling over 
Mr. Frazier’s witticisms you would have escaped 
punishment. Keport at my office immediately 
after supper this evening, sir.” And then, after 
finding perhaps a pin -head of dust behind the 
looking-glass, and further rebuking Mr. Graham 
for unmilitary carelessness, the young gentleman 
proceeds to carry dismay into the next room. 

And that evening, after supper, as ordered, 
Pops tapped at the awful door, was bidden to 
enter and listen to his doom. Cadet Lieutenant 
Merrick sat in judgment. For levity in ranks, 
dust on mantel, broom out of place at inspection, 
new Cadet Graham was directed to walk post in 
the hall until drum-beat at tattoo. 

Outside the door, standing meekly in the hall- 
way, awaiting summons to enter, were half a 
dozen of his comrades, about to be sentenced to 
similar punishment for blunders of greater or 
less magnitude. Some looked woe-begone, some 
foolish, some were laughing, but all assumed the 
required expression of gravity as Mr. Loring 
came forth with his victim. In two minutes 
our Geordie found himself slowly pacing the 
hallway on the second floor, with strict orders to 
keep his little fingers on the seams of his trou- 


45 


sers, the palms of his hands to the front, and to 
hold conversation with nobody except in the line 
of duty. For a moment he could not but feel a 
little wrathful and disheartened, but again Mc- 
Crea’s words came to his aid : “ Remember that 
the first thing that will be sorely tested is your 
sense of subordination — your readiness to obey 
without question. 1ST o soldier is considered fit 
to command others until he can command him- 
self. They purposely put a fellow through all 
manner of predicament just to test his grit. Don’t 
let anything ruffle your temper, and they will soon 
find you need no lessons.” And so, like a sentry, 
he patiently tramped his post, listening to the 
music of the band at an evening concert out on 
the Plain, and keeping watchful eye for the com- 
ing of cadet officials. Along towards nine o’clock 
up came Cadet Lieutenant Merrick, commanding 
the plebes ; and “ Pops,” as he had been taught, 
halted, faced him, and stood attention. 

“ Why are you on punishment to-night, sir ?” 
was the question. 

Pops colored, but answered promptly, “ Laugh- 
ing in ranks, broom out of place, and some other 
things, sir.” 

“ Yes, I remember. Go to your quarters now, 
and keep your face straight on duty hereafter.” 

Involuntarily Geordie raised his hand in salute, 
as for years he had seen the soldiers do after 


46 


receiving orders from an officer, then turned 
to go. 

“One moment, Mr. Graham. Whose squad 
are you in ?” 

“ Mr. Flint’s, sir.” 

“ Did he teach you that salute ?” 

“ No, sir,” stammered Geordie. 

“ Where did you learn it ?” 

“ Among the soldiers, sir, in the garrison.” 

“ Ah, yes, I’ve heard of your case. That ’ll do, 
sir.” 

Back in his room Pops found his three com- 
rades in excited discussion. Something tremen- 
dous had happened. While Geordie, obedient to 
his orders, had gone to report to the cadet offi- 
cer, Frazier, exulting in his knowledge of the 
Point, had persuaded Connell to trust himself to 
his guidance and go out for a walk. For half an 
hour after returning from supper the new cadets 
were allowed release from quarters, and permitted 
to visit each other and stroll about the grounds 
as they might see fit, but were cautioned not to 
venture over towards camp. The Graduating 
Class had now been gone, with the happy fur- 
loughmen, an entire week. The rest of the corps, 
the new First and Third Classes, had marched into 
their summer quarters over across the cavalry 
plain, among the beautiful trees south of old Fort 
Clinton. The new cadets, still in the garb of 


47 


civil life, were “ herded together,” as the old ca- 
dets expressed it, at the barracks, and thither the 
older cadets now were forbidden to go. Except 
in the mess-hall, three times a day, they were seen, 
therefore, only by their barrack instructors and 
their squad drill -masters. As a result of this 
plan the wholesale system of hazing, plaguing, 
and tormenting that prevailed at the Point some 
thirty years ago was wellnigh prevented. Not 
so, however, the impulse. Just so long as human 
nature remains as it is and has been since crea- 
tion, “boys will be boys,” and rare indeed are 
the boy-natures which know not the longing to 
play tricks upon new-comers, especially at school 
or college. Even among mature men the impulse 
lingers. Added, therefore, to the line of demar- 
cation mentioned in the interest of discipline be- 
tween the plebe and the upper-class man there 
ever exists the temptation to have sport at the ex- 
pense of the new-comers, and only by most strin- 
gent measures has the spirit been controlled to 
the extent that it is. 

So long as Geordie and his comrades kept to 
the neighborhood of the barracks, however, they 
were safe. A few of their number had been run 
up into the rooms of the yearlings the day be- 
fore camp, where they were instantly surrounded 
by a frantic mob of young fellows mad with ex- 
ultation at being at last released from plebehood, 


48 


and eager to try on the new boys the experi- 
ments lavished on them a twelvemonth previous. 
The officer in charge caught sound of the affair, 
however, and made instant descent upon the di- 
vision, only, of course, to find the suspected room 
deserted, and all the others crowded by old cadets, 
and the only faces that looked in the faintest 
degree conscious of guilt or wrong were those 
of the luckless plebes themselves, who, cautioned 
against entering the barracks of the elders, were 
nevertheless caught in the act, and could never 
explain any more than they could help their 
presence on dangerous and forbidden ground. 

Benny Frazier was loud in his ridicule of Winn, 
who was one of the party entrapped. No year- 
ling and no squad or party of yearlings could 
get him where he didn’t mean or wish to go, he 
frequently said; and for no other reason than 
that he had been officially warned to keep away 
from camp had Benny become possessed with 
the longing to cruise thither. Old cadets couldn’t 
cross sentry posts and nab them, he argued. 
“ We’ll just aggravate them by coming so near, 
and yet keeping aloof.” Poor, crestfallen, in- 
dignant Benny! He and Connell had sallied 
forth, had gone strolling over the plain and 
along the south side of camp, between the field 
battery and the tents, had smilingly declined 
the eager invitation of the yearlings, who crowd- 


49 


ed down along the post of the sentry on Number 
Five, urging them to enter and make themselves 
at home. In the consciousness of his superior 
wisdom Benny had even ventured upon an ex- 
pressive gesture with his thumb at the tip of his 
nose, his fingers wiggling in air. Poor boy! 
There were instant and stentorian shouts for the 
corporal of the guard. Down at a run from the 
guard-tent came a patrol. Eager hands pointed 
the way ; eager voices clamored for their arrest. 
Benny and Connell were surrounded in an in- 
stant. Glistening bayonets were levelled at their 
throbbing hearts. “ March!” was the order, and 
amid the jeers and rejoicing of a hundred young 
scamps in gray and white the two poor plebes 
were sternly marshalled to the guard-tents, and 
into the awful presence of the cadet officer of 
the day, charged with having disobeyed the sen- 
tinel’s order not to pass between the guns, and, 
far worse, of having made insulting gestures to 
a sentry in the solemn discharge of his duty. It 
was an impressive moment. There stood the 
stern young cadet captain in his tall plume and 
crimson sash and gold-laced sleeves, astounded 
at the effrontery of these young yet hardened 
reprobates. 

“ Is this possible ?” he demanded, slowly, im- 
pressively. “ Who and what are you who have 
dared to insult the sacred office of the sentinel, 


50 


the soldier to whose lightest word even the com- 
mander-in-chief must show respect? Who and 
what are you ?” 

“We didn’t mean any harm,” whimpered Ben- 
ny. “ We’re only new cadets.” 

“ What /” 

And here every one in the surrounding group 
— officer of the day, officer of the guard, corpo- 
rals and privates, awed spectators — all fell back 
into attitudes expressive of horror and dismay. 

“ What /” exclaimed the cadet captain. “Are 
you mad ? Mad !” he continued. “ Is it credible 
that you, chosen by the deluded Representatives 
of your States to represent a proud community 
in an honorable profession — you dared to signal- 
ize your admission here by one of the most fla- 
grant offences known to military law ? Send at 
once for the Superintendent, Officer of the Guard. 
This is beyond my powers. Into the guard-tent 
with them! Batten down the walls. Station 
sentries at each side, Mr. Green. Put two of 
your most reliable men at the door, with orders 
to shoot them dead if they stir a muscle. Order- 
ly, go at once for the commandant, and warn the 
officers that mutiny has broken out among the 
new cadets.” 

And so in another instant the luckless boys 
were bundled into the guard-tent, with bristling 
bayonets at every opening, with sentries on every 


51 


side discussing in awe-inspiring tones the proba- 
ble fate of the mutineers. And here might they 
have been held in limbo for hours had not Cadet 
Corporal Loring found them absent at inspection, 
and learned from Mr. Winn, sole representative 
of the quartet, that Frazier had invited Connell 
to take a walk, and shrewdly suspecting that they 
had been trapped over at camp, had reported 
matters to Mr. Merrick, his immediate superior, 
and was sent over to the rescue. Of course, on 
hearing the nature of their crime, he too was 
properly shocked, and could find no words to ex- 
press his consternation. All the same, he got 
them out of the guard-tent and over to barracks 
before the army officer on duty as commandant 
of new cadets happened in, and had barely time 
to get them to their room before that gentleman 
came to inquire if their charges were all safe 
for the night. Pops found Connell grievously 
alarmed, but Frazier was only loudly indignant. 

“ All I’m afraid of is that now I won’t get in 
the first squad to have muskets,” he said. “We 
were going to have ’em in the morning.” 

But when morning came it was Geordie, not 
Frazier, who was put in the first squad, and Ben- 
ny couldn’t understand it. He who had been the 
best soldier of the high - school cadets was left 
behind. 


CHAPTER IV 


Drill, drill, drill! Up with, the dawn, rain 
or shine ; hurrying through their soldier toilets ; 
rushing down the iron stairways and springing 
into rigid attention in the forming ranks ; sharp- 
ly answering to the rapidly called roll; scatter- 
ing to their rooms to “spruce up” for inspec- 
tion ; sure of reprimand if anything went amiss, 
sure of silence only if all were well. Sweeping 
and dusting ; folding, arranging, and rearranging 
each item of their few belongings; stumbling 
over one another’s heels at first, yet with each 
succeeding day marching to meals with less con- 
straint and greater appetite ; spending long hours 
of toil and brief minutes of respite; twisting, 
turning, wrenching, extending, developing every 
muscle, most of them hitherto unsuspected and 
unknown ; bending double, springing erect, roost- 
ing on tiptoe, swaying forward, backward, side- 
ways, every ways; aching in every bone and 
joint, sore in every limb, yet expected to stick to 
it through thick and thin, until as days wore on 
and pains wore off, and all that was sore, stiff, 
and awkward grew little by little to be supple, 


53 


easy, and alert. Wondrous indeed is the trans- 
formation wrought in two weeks of such drill 
under such drill - masters. The 1st of July ar- 
rived; George Graham and his fivescore plebe 
comrades had now spent a fortnight under sur- 
veillance and discipline strict and unrelenting 
as that of the days of grim old Frederick the 
Great, except that it tolerated no touch of the 
corporal’s cane, no act of abuse. Sharp, stern, 
fiercely critical were the young cadet instructors, 
but after the first few days of soreness the na- 
tive elasticity returned to both body and soul, 
the boys began to take heart again, and a spirit 
of rivalry to develop between the drill squads. 

To Geordie the hours of soreness of spirit had 
been few as those of physical suffering. His 
years of life among the soldiers had prepared 
him for much that he had to encounter, and 
pride and pluck sustained him when wearied by 
the drills or annoyed by the sharp language of 
his instructors. But w r ith poor Benny Frazier all 
was different. A pet at home, and the brightest 
scholar of the high-school of his native city; more- 
over, the boy officer of the high-school battalion, 
of whom it was confidently predicted that “ He 
would need no drilling at all at West Point”; 
“ He’d show those cadet fellows a thing or two 
they never dreamed of ” — it was gall and worm- 
wood to his soul to find himself the object of no 


54 


more consideration at the Point than the green- 
est “ country jake ” from Indiana or Dakota ; and 
to Benny’s metropolitan mind anything from 
either Western commonwealth could be nothing 
but green. What made matters worse for Fra- 
zier was the fact that his father and mother had 
accompanied him to the Point on his arrival, and 
with pardonable pride, but mistaken zeal, had 
sought to impress upon the minds of such offi- 
cers, cadets, and relatives of other plebes as they 
chanced to meet the story of Benny’s manifold 
excellences as soldier and scholar — oft-told tales 
of how General This or Professor That had de- 
clared him the most accomplished young cap- 
tain they had ever seen. Then poor Mrs. Fra- 
zier, who had pictured for her beloved boy a 
reception at the hands of the authorities in 
which gratification, cordiality, and respect should 
be intermingled, was simply aghast to find that 
he must take his stand with his fellows at the 
bottom of the ladder. Luckily for Benny, his 
parents’ stay was limited to three days. Un- 
luckily for Benny, they remained long enough to 
see him at his first squad drill, side by side with 
two unmistakably awkward boys, and faring but 
little better. Such was her grief and indigna- 
tion that the good lady declared to acquaint- 
ances at the hotel that her boy should be drilling 
that horrid little martinet instead of being drilled 


55 


by him — and such speeches are sure of repetition. 
Before Benny was a week older he was known 
throughout the battalion as “ the plebe who had 
come to drill the corps of cadets,” and nothing 
could have started him worse. One can only 
conjecture what the fond but unwise mother 
would have said could she have seen, a fortnight 
later, that boys who had never drilled at all — 
had never handled a musket — were grouped in the 
first squad, and making rapid and soldierly prog- 
ress, while Benny was still fretting and fuming 
in the lower one. Yet what was so inexplicable 
and inexcusable in her eyes was perfectly plain 
and simple to those acquainted with the facts. 

Al l over the Union now are military schools 
and National Guard organizations in which the 
drill regulations of the regular army are well 
taught and understood ; but, on the other hand, 
there are many schools and communities in 
which the strictly business system of instruction 
insisted upon among all progressive soldiers has 
been neglected in favor of something showy, 
catchy, pretty to look at, and utterly useless and 
unserviceable except for spectacular purposes; 
and as ill - luck would have it, Benny had been 
taught all manner of “ fancy drill ” movements 
utterly at variance with those he was now to 
learn ; and so, poor boy, the nerves and muscles 
long schooled in one way of doing things were 


56 


perpetually tripping him in his efforts to master 
another — he had to unlearn so much before he 
could learn even a little. The green boys, on 
whom he looked with such pity at the start, 
knowing no wrong methods, were speedily far 
ahead of him in acquiring the right. 

And so the boy who had entered with the 
highest hopes and expectations was now low on 
the soldier list and lowest in his mind. But for 
his father’s hard common-sense, Benny Frazier 
would have been only too glad to resign and get 
out of it all and go home, as other disappointed 
boys have done, and declare West Point a hot- 
bed of narrow prejudice, of outrageous partiality, 
and unbridled injustice ; and Benny’s mother 
would have honestly believed every word of 
it. Connell, too, was ready to sympathize with 
Frazier, and confidentially to agree with him that 
Pops, the youngest of the four room-mates, owed 
his rise to the first squad entirely to the fact that 
his father was an officer ; but when four more 
boys were added to the first squad, and Connell 
was one of them, he changed his views, and de- 
cided that only merit governed those matters, 
after all. He began to pluck up heart, too, for 
he and Graham were among the first to be 
marched over to the commissary’s to try on the 
new gray fatigue uniforms, and Mr. Boring’s 
squad all appeared in shell jackets and trousers 


57 


before Winn and Frazier had cast off their civilian 
garb. 

By July 1st, however, all were in fatigue dress, 
and consolidated in half a dozen squads for drill 
purposes. By this time, too, they could march 
to and from the mess -hall in stiff but soldierly 
fashion ; and still, hour after hour, the relentless 
drills went on. Only on Saturday afternoons 
and on the long, beautiful, peaceful Sundays was 
there really time and opportunity for rest ; and 
still the new cadets were kept carefully secluded 
from the old, seeing little or nothing of the bat- 
talion, except as, with its quick elastic step and 
its glistening white uniform, with the brave 
young faces looking browner every day under 
their snowy helmets, with drums and fifes play- 
ing their lively quicksteps, the little column 
came marching down the shaded road, and the 
plebes were drawn up in solid ranks until their 
future comrades should pass by, and, springing 
up the mess - hall steps, give room for them to 
follow. 

Pops wrote his first long letter home the sec- 
ond Sunday after passing the entrance examina- 
tion, and this is something of what he said : 

“We have lived together now just fourteen 
days, Frazier and Connell, Winn and I, and are 
getting along pretty well. Of course we may 
be scattered as soon as we get in camp, for Winn 

5 


58 


is tall, and will be put in A or D company. 
Connell wants to live with his statesman, Mr. 
Foster, in B. If Frazier and I get into the 
same company we will tent together, most likely. 
He asked me to, and said he could fix it. We 
got our fatigue uniforms Thursday, Connell and 
I, and were almost the first, too, because of being 
in Mr. Boring’s squad for drill. He is very sharp 
and severe, and some of our class don’t like him 
a bit; but thus far we get along all right. I’m 
so pleased to be in the first squad to get rifles 
I don’t mind his manner. Of course it helped 
a good deal knowing the manual of arms, but 
they’re a heap stricter here. [Pops would drop 
into frontierisms at times.] If a thumb or finger 
is a bit out of place, the corporal makes more row 
about it than Sergeant Feeny would over a re- 
cruit’s coming out for guard with a dirty kit. 

“ I guess Frazier wishes he hadn’t been so fresh 
[more slang, Pops] at first. He was captain in 
the high-school cadets and head of his class, and 
rather held over our boys about the drill at first ; 
said he knew it all, and showed his school med- 
als for best-drilled soldier, etc. ; but Mr. Loring 
gave him fits, and put him under Mr. Flint, who 
drilled me the first few days, and is as ugly and 
stern as he can be. Frazier tried to make us be- 
lieve the cadets were drilling him wrong ; but 
when he showed us how they did it where he 


PLEDE DitlLL 
















59 


came from I knew it was lie who was wrong ; 
and he’s had a lot of trouble, and wanted to re- 
sign and quit, but his father wouldn’t let him. 
He’s getting on a little better now, and says he’ll 
be all right as soon as we are at our studies in 
the fall. I guess he will, for he’s been clear 
through algebra and geometry and trigonome- 
try, has been in France two years, and speaks 
French perfectly, and we all think he’s sure to 
be head of the class, if he doesn’t get disgusted ; 
but he does that pretty easy. Connell is slower, 
but has been well taught in the public schools. 
Winn is a big, tall fellow from ‘ Kentuck,’ as he 
calls it — good-natured and jolly. He’s been to 
college, and is nearly twenty ; so is Connell ; and 
Frazier is eighteen, but a regular boy. He was 
awfully disgusted at a trick the old cadets played 
on him last week ; and they got hold of some 
story about his thinking he ought to be drilling 
them instead of their drilling him, and I expect 
he’ll have a tough lesson when we go into camp, 
where they can get at us and have fun. Don’t 
expect any long letters like this, mother dear, 
when once we are there, for there won’t be any 
undisturbed hours, as there are here in barracks 
this lovely Sunday afternoon. I’ve been think- 
ing of all you said to-day, and tried to fix my 
thoughts on the service and the sermon in church ; 
but they would go with my eyes along the row 


60 


of cadet officers, who always sit in the centre 
aisle and at the end of the pews, and I found 
myself wondering what each one was like, and 
whether the time would really ever come when 
I, too, would wear the handsome chevrons and 
sash. I could see just where Mr. McCrea must 
have sat when he was cadet captain of Com- 
pany C. It must have seemed such a ‘come 
down ’ to go out into the world and be nothing 
but a Second Lieutenant, whom anybody could 
rank out of quarters and everybody order around. 
And yet that’s what I hope to do after four years 
— four long, long years of hard work ; and there 
isn’t a happier, hopefuler boy in creation than 
this particular plebe. But you just ought to see 
how blue most of them are ! 

“ You asked me not to use tobacco, and I won’t. 
It is forbidden in the corps, but lots of them do 
it. Frazier has a hard time. He has been smokv 
ing cigarettes two years, he says, though his 
mother doesn’t know it, and he had a lot in his 
trunk when he came, but had to turn them all 
over to the old cadets. Winn chews. He says 
they all did at his home. But Mr. Merrick made 
him surrender his tobacco — all he had ; but it’s 
easy enough to get more at the Falls. Fra- 
zier says all you’ve got to do is to pay some 
servant or drummer -boy. He has money in 
plenty, for his mother supplied him. They are 


61 


rich, I believe, and Frazier says his father de- 
posited two hundred dollars with the treasurer 
to start with, instead of the one hundred required. 
Some boys haven’t that, and couldn’t get it. 
Connell said he worked after hours for six 
months to raise enough to bring him here, and 
had fifty dollars to hand the treasurer. It hurts 
me to think how you and father must have 
pinched and denied yourselves to raise the money 
to send me all the way, and to pay all these ex- 
penses and the one hundred dollars deposit. I 
know now why father couldn’t afford the new 
uniform he so much needed this year, and I don’t 
know what you must have given up ; but I love 
you, and don’t mean to let myself think how I 
envy Buddie this minute, that he is there where 
he can hear your voice and see your face and 
touch and kiss you.” 

But here Pops’s eyes began to fill, and the 
letter had to be put aside. He was glad of the 
loud, ringing summons on the ground -floor, 
“ Hew cadets, turn out promptly !” and just 
dashing his hand across his eyes, went bound- 
ing down the stairs to take his station in the 
ranks. 

And then came the momentous day of their 
move into camp. All were now in complete 
fatigue uniform, many thoroughly drilled, all 
passably so, and all eager to get into the battal- 


62 


ion, and figure, in their own eyes at least, as old 
cadets. Eight after reveille roll-call on the 
morning of the 2d of July they were bidden to 
stow the last of their civilian clothing in their 
trunks, carry the trunks to the store-rooms, roll 
their bedding into convenient bundles, and be 
ready to move the moment breakfast was over. 
By half -past six the cavalry plain, as the turfless 
eastern half of the broad open plateau is termed, 
was covered with a long straggling procession of 
plebes, bearing their burdens over to the lively 
and excited camp. They had been sized the 
night before, the taller half of the class being 
assigned, as was then the custom, to the flank 
companies of the battalion, while Pops and Con- 
nell were told off into Company B, the right 
centre or color company. Frazier, always luck- 
less, as he said, was one of the plebes assigned to 
C Company, and for a time it looked as though 
Pops were to lose his prospective tent-mate. But 
Mr. Merrick, in brief official tones, announced 
that exchanges would be permitted except from 
flank to centre companies, and Frazier presently 
found a meek little fellow named Willis who 
said it made no difference to him which company 
he went to, so he crossed over and took Frazier’s 
place in the C squad, and thus it happened that 
when they trudged across the sentry post at 
Number Six, and were directed to deposit their 


63 


bundles in Company B’s bustling street, Pops 
and Frazier were once more together. Already 
Geordie was beginning to doubt the wisdom of 
the arrangement, but he had given his promise 
to tent with Benny, and would keep it. All along 
among the tents the yearlings could be seen in- 
dulging in pantomime, expressive of the liveliest 
delight at these accessions to the ranks. Pops 
could see them pointing out Frazier, and hear 
exclamations : “ There’s the plebe that ought to 
be drilling the corps,” “ Major-General Frazier,” 
etc., and low laughter and chuckles. But all 
this was done covertly; for Lieutenant Allen, 
the army officer commanding the company, was 
standing close at hand with Cadet Captain Leon- 
ard, supervising the assignment of tents. Mr. 
Merrick had handed the cadet captain a list of 
names of those assigned to his company, twenty- 
eight in all, and that young soldier was now 
keenly looking over his new men. Pops, saying 
nothing to anybody, was standing quietly by his 
bundle of bedding waiting for orders ; but Fra- 
zier, who had more “ cheek,” as Connell expressed 
it, and less discretion, did not hesitate to step up 
to Lieutenant Allen, and say, “ Mr. Graham and 
I would like to tent together, sir.” 

The officer turned. “ Which is Mr. Graham ?” 
he asked. “ Call him here.” 

And so in another moment Pops found him- 


64 


self standing attention to his company command* 
er and instructor. 

“ I am told you wish to tent with Mr. Frazier. 
Is that the case ?” 

Geordie colored. The question was so pat 
and what soldiers call point-blank. He could 
not truthfully say that he really wished to share 
Frazier’s fortunes as a tent-mate. In the pursu- 
ance of the policy he had mapped out for him- 
self he would rather have lived with some one 
less likely to be the recipient of much attention 
from the old cadets — some one less apt to be 
perpetually saying or doing something to invite 
their especial efforts. Mr. Allen saw his hesi- 
tancy, and spoke kindly. 

“If you think of any one else you would 
rather tent with, I presume that it can be ar- 
ranged.” 

“ Ho, sir,” answered Geordie, finding voice at 
last. “ I had thought of no one else. I promised 
Mr. Frazier.” 

“ Yery well, sir. Mr. Leonard, put this young 
gentleman and Mr. Frazier in the same tent — 
two more with them. Have you any choice, 
Mr. Graham ?” 

“Ho, sir.” 

And then again' appeared Frazier, eager to 
speak. “ Connell and Foster, sir, would like to 
tent with us.” 


65 


The cadet officer looked interrogatively at his 
superior. Mr. Allen briefly nodded. 

“ Take that one, then,” said Mr. Leonard, short- 
ly, indicating a vacant tent on the south side of 
the company street, at about the middle of the 
row. 

“ Come on, boys,” said Frazier, eagerly, assum- 
ing the leadership of his squad as though by 
vested right, and then was brought up standing 
by the voice of his young captain. 

“ Mr. Frazier,” said he, “ the first lesson you 
have to learn is that very new cadets should 
only be seen, not heard; and when you are 
heard, sir, don’t again allude to members of the 
corps of cadets of the United States Army as 
boys. You are here to be men, if it’s in you. If 
it isn’t, you’re apt to get out of it, sir.” 

And with this withering welcome to his com- 
pany, poor Frazier was permitted to go. 

“ That’s another young snob, that fellow Leon- 
ard !” he confided to his comrades, in low tone, 
as they were depositing their few goods and 
chattels in their eight-by-ten domain. “ I’ll pay 
him off for that yet, see if I don’t.” Whereat 
Pops and Connell exchanged glances and grins. 

It took little time to arrange their canvas 
home in the prescribed military order. Pops was 
a veteran campaigner, and had slept in many a 
tent or bivouac in the Far West, so the quarters 


66 


that struck his comrades as crowded were al- 
most palatial to him. When they placed their 
loads in front of it at six forty-five, all they saw 
was a trimly-pitched wall-tent, the walls them- 
selves neatly looped up so as to allow the air 
to circulate freely, the tent and its “ overcoat,” 
or fly, both stretched taut and smooth, without 
crease or wrinkle, a square, smooth, six-inch-high 
platform or floor covering the ground from front 
tent pole almost to the one in rear. An elongated 
wooden box painted dark green, divided into 
four compartments, with lids opening at the top, 
extended almost from front to rear of the plat- 
form on the west side of the tent. This was to 
be their chest of drawers. A wooden rod hung 
about eighteen inches under the ridge-pole ; this 
was to be their wardrobe, and of other furniture 
there was none. Under the brief instruction of 
a cadet corporal they began with the rudiments 
of their military house-keeping. First, their four 
big double blankets were folded in a square very 
nearly four feet across, and with the folded edges 
to the front and inside, accurately piled one upon 
the other. Then the four pillows in their w r hite 
cases were evenly laid upon the blankets. Then 
the four comforters or quilts, folded like the 
blankets, were evenly laid on top, edges vertical, 
and that was the way in which the beds were 
made up every morning after reveille. The pile 


67 


thus formed occupied the corner of the floor op- 
posite the locker or chest of drawers at the back 
of the tent. The locker was the name given the 
dark green chest, and the “locker” had neither 
lock nor key. Under the supervision of the 
cadet corporal the plebe quartet contributed 
the items necessary to their summer house-keep- 
ing. A looking - glass, sixteen by twelve, in a 
plain wooden frame, was hung on the front tent 
pole, tilted a trifle forward at the top. A water- 
bucket was deposited at the front edge of the 
platform close to the locker. A washbowl, bot- 
tom outward, was leaned against the front edge 
of the platform close to the bucket. A soap-dish 
was on the platform behind the basin. Candle- 
stick, candles, cleaning materials, etc., were de- 
posited in a cylindrical tin box that stood at the 
foot of the rear tent pole behind the base of the 
arm-rack. 

The four rifles, barrels to the front, were stood 
erect, the butt of each in its wooden socket at 
the back of the floor, the muzzle poked through 
a hole in the wooden shelf fastened about four 
feet from the ground on the rear tent pole. 
The white webbing belts, supporting the car- 
tridge-box and bayonet-scabbard, were hung on 
pegs projecting from the wooden shelf. Shoes, 
“ neatly blacked and dusted at all times,” were 
aligned at the back of the floor, toes to the front. 


68 


Such books as were allowed were piled on the 
floor at the back end of the locker. All woollen 
uniforms, overcoats, rubber coats, etc., were to 
be hung on the hanging-pole. All white trou- 
sers, sheets, underclothing, collars, cuffs, gloves, 
etc., to be stored, each man’s in his own locker. 
Brushes, combs, shaving utensils were stuck in 
loops tacked on the inside of each lid. The black 
full-dress shakos were, when procured, to be 
neatly placed on the shelf of the rear pole, or- 
naments to the front, and forage-caps hung on 
the owners’ pegs. There was a place, howsoever 
small, for everything, and everything was to be 
kept in its place. 

By the time the first drum was beating for troop 
parade everything was in spick-span order. The 
officers had gone about their duties, and a group 
of yearlings, looking as though each and every 
one had just stepped from a bandbox, so far as 
his dress and equipments were concerned, quickly 
formed in the company ground in front of the 
newly occupied “ plebe hotels,” the very imp of 
mischief grinning in the sun-tanned faces of the 
younger and more boyish members, but one and 
all full of the liveliest interest in the appearance 
of the new-comers and their household affairs. 
Comment and criticism, advice and suggestions, 
more or less valuable, were showered on every 
plebe; but even while silently and good-hu- 


69 


moredly submitting to his fire of remarks, Pops 
could plainly see that no tent was so surrounded 
as their own. It really seemed as though every 
Third Class man and many a senior in Company 
B, reinforced by strong detachments from other 
companies, had come to claim the acquaintance 
of Major-General Frazier, and furthermore that 
the luckless Benny, instead of maintaining good- 
humored reticence, and speaking only when he 
had to, was rapidly adding to the array of charges 
laid at his door by trying to be smart in reply. 
The sudden batter of the second drum trans- 
ferred the laughing, chaffing crowd into two 
silent, statuesque ranks, and for the rest of that 
momentous hour, while doing his best to give his 
whole thought to drill and duty, Geordie Graham 
found himself thinking, u Just won’t we catch it 
to-night !” 


CHAPTER Y 


The dusk of evening had fallen on the Point 
when the battalion broke ranks, returning from 
supper. A few minutes later, a hundred strong, 
came the column of plebes, marching by fours, 
looking even more than usually sombre now in 
their suits of gray, contrasting with the white 
trousers and natty bell -buttoned coatees of the 
corps, and feeling, doubtless, more than usually 
solemn in anticipation of the possible experiences 
ahead of them. First night of plebe camp is a 
thing not soon to be forgotten, even in these 
days when pitchy darkness no longer shrouds 
the pranks of the yearlings, and official vigilance 
and protection have replaced what really seemed 
tacit encouragement and consent of over thirty 
years ago. Then it was no uncommon thing for 
the new cadet to be dragged out (“ yanked,” was 
the expression in vogue) and slid around camp 
on his dust-covered blanket twenty times a night, 
dumped into Fort Clinton ditch, tossed in a tent- 
fly, half smothered in the folds of his canvas 
home, tumbled by his tormentors about his ears, 
ridden on a tent pole or in a rickety wheelbar- 


71 


row, smoked out by some vile, slow -burning py- 
rotechnic compound, robbed of rest and sleep, 
at the very least, after he had been alternately 
drilled and worked all the livelong day. Verily, 
the hardening process of the early sixties was a 
thing that might well be frowned down upon 
and stamped out, but it took stringent measures 
to effect it. In great measure the deviling sys- 
tem was, so far as its most harmful features were 
concerned, but the ghost of its old self when 
Ealph McCrea entered the Academy just after 
the Centennial year. Then little by little means 
were taken to make the process still more diffi- 
cult to the perpetrators, until twenty years after 
the War of the Rebellion hazing became indeed 
hazardous. Officers were kept on duty and on 
the alert in camp at all hours. Gas-lamps were 
placed along the sentry post. In every way the 
authorities could foresee the plebe was protected 
from the more active torment of the old days. 
But so long as boys will be boys some modifica- 
tion must exist ; and as for the year of probation 
which the new-comer must pass — the year in 
which he is taught in every conceivable way that 
he is a creature far apart from the rest of the 
corps, a being to be drilled, trained, disciplined, 
badgered, even at times bullied — it is really a 
year of most valuable experiences, perhaps the 
most valuable of the four. It is this that teaches 


72 


him that no matter what may be the wealth or 
social standing of his relatives, he is no better 
than the humblest clodhopper of his class. It is 
this year that teaches him to look to his own class- 
mates and no others for comrades and chums. It 
is this that teaches him silence, patience, and for- 
titude. Nine out of ten of the plebes and their 
relatives pronounce it inhuman and barbarous so 
long as it applies to them or theirs. Ninety -nine 
out of a hundred, however, uphold it so soon as 
their plebehood is done. 

All this George Graham fully understood, and 
was ready to bear his part in without a mur- 
mur. Not so his friend Benny. That young 
gentleman had been too long the prize boy at 
school and the spoiled boy at home to “ come 
down gracefully.” Nothing could convince him 
that the cadet officers had not shown outrageous 
partiality to Graham and abominable malice 
towards himself in the matter of advancement 
in the school of the soldier. It was worse still 
when Connell stepped up into the first squad. 
But now, argued Frazier, we’re all starting fresh 
again. We’re all on a level to-day as B Com- 
pany plebes, but the moment we are completely 
uniformed and relieved from squad drill under 
such brutes as Boring and Flint, and with our 
own company officers, I’ll soon show them I 
know a trick or two far beyond them. But the 


73 


golden gift of silence was something beyond 
Benny Frazier, and he couldn’t keep his hopeful 
predictions or his boyish boasts to himself. He 
had attracted at the outset the attention of the 
whole class of yearlings, and, just as Graham 
expected, their house-warming was all too well 
attended. 

Two minutes after their return from supper 
this particular “plebe hotel” was surrounded. 
The yearlings in force had come to call on Major- 
General Frazier. Ho noise was made. Nothing, 
on their part, at least, occurred to attract the 
attention of the army officers in charge or the 
cadet officers of the guard. Indeed, the latter are 
most apt to be particularly deaf at such times. 
The darkness gathered no more quickly, no more 
noiselessly, than did the crowd. And doffing 
their natty forage-caps, bowing with exaggerated 
politeness, cadets Cramer, Cresswell, Daggett, 
Driggs, Elton, etc. — one might go alphabetically 
through the list of the Third Class and hardly 
miss a name — begged the honor of an interview. 

Benny, standing well back within the tent, his 
hand on his heart, bowed, smiled, and protested 
that nothing would give him greater delight than 
to meet the entire class ; expressed his sense of the 
high honor paid him, regretted that his quarters 
were so contracted that he could not invite them 

in, and was thereupon invited out, but begged to 

6 


74 


be excused. Connell was lighting the candle, and 
Graham, seated on the locker, was whimsically 
wondering what form the mischief would take, 
when the broom came up from behind the locker 
in most mysterious fashion. Match and candle 
both went out, and an instant later so did Benny, 
projected by some mysterious force from behind. 

Pops and Connell were conscious of the sudden 
arrival from under the tent wall of three or four 
shadowy forms, and of smothered laughter as 
Benny shot forward into the company street, to 
be instantly ingulfed in a swarm of active young 
fellows in gray and white, through whom it was 
impossible to break away. In an instant he was 
standing attention, heels clamped together, knees 
straight, and with anything but stiffness, for they 
were trembling violently, shoulders and elbows 
forced back, little fingers on the seam of the 
trousers, head high, and eyes straight to the 
front — the attitude of the soldier in the presence 
of his superior officers as interpreted by his nat- 
ural enemies, the old cadets. And then began 
the mad confusion of question, comment, and criti- 
cism ; dozens talking eagerly at once, and all de- 
manding reply, still making very li ttle noise. The 
suppressed tones could hardly be heard beyond 
the company streets. 

Benny’s personal history from babyhood to 
date of admission at the Point was matter of 


75 


the liveliest interest. ISTo detail escaped inquiry. 
His military experiences as captain of the high- 
school cadets was a theme on which it was no 
longer possible for him to remain silent. With 
the recollection of his capture and incarcera- 
tion in the guard - tent, and Graham’s friendly 
counsel to say nothing more than he had to, 
and that in the simplest way, Frazier’s propen- 
sity for putting his foot in it followed him even 
here. 

In the innocence of their parental hearts, Ben- 
ny’s father and mother had brought to the Point 
certain newspaper clippings that had given 
them huge delight at the date of their appear- 
ance and of Benny’s appointment. For several 
weeks he was the envied of all the boys in 
Beanton, the proud possessor of a. cadetship, the 
future general, the present conquering hero ; but 
if Mr. Frazier senior could have imagined what 
woe those clippings were destined to bring to 
Benny’s door, he would gladly have consigned 
them, their compounders, and compositors, to the 
plains. In her maternal pride poor Mrs. Frazier 
had given copies to the mothers of other cadets 
less favored of Providence, little dreaming to 
what base uses they would come. One of these, 
a florid description of the review and drill of the 
high-school cadets on the 10th of May, and the 
presentation of medals to the most distinguished 


76 


of the cadet officers, concluded with a glowing 
tribute to the “Wonderful soldierly ability of 
Captain Benjamin Franklin Frazier, the only 
son of the Honorable T. J. Frazier, of this city, 
who was pronounced by the judges and many 
veterans present the most remarkable drill-mas- 
ter and battalion commander they had ever seen. 
His promptness, presence of mind, and fine mili- 
tary bearing, as well as his accurate knowledge 
of the tactics, were all astonishing in one so 
young. 

“ The writer, who has frequently visited West 
Point, is free to say that cadets of that famous 
school are not to be compared with the high- 
school cadets in the precision and beauty of their 
drill, and The Examiner confidently predicts a 
brilliant career for the appointee from the Sixth 
Congressional District, who will doubtless step 
at once on donning the West Point uniform into 
the command of one of the cadet companies of 
the national school.” 

The group of yearlings had constituted itself 
an examining board, and was propounding most 
intricate and surprising problems to test Ben- 
ny’s knowledge of military tactics. Suddenly a 
tall fellow came elbowing his way through the 
throng. 

“ Mr. Frazier,” said he, in tones at which every 
other voice was stilled, “ you represent the Sixth 


77 


Congressional District of the Pilgrim State, I 
understand.” 

“ I do, sir,” answered Benny, eyes still to the 
front, and wondering what was coming next. 

“Were you a member of the cadet corps of 
the Beanton High-school ?” 

“ I was, sir.” 

“ Then it can be no one but yourself to whom 
this article refers. Gentlemen, fall back ! Hold 
a candle here, somebody. Mr. Frazier, we will 
now permit you to give an exhibition of your 
ability to read aloud in the open air so as to 
be distinctly understood by your troops. Your 
services as adjutant - general may be needed at 
any moment. Read this carefully, now.” And 
on a foot square of card- board poor Benny saw 
before his startled eyes the very paragraph of 
all others Graham had warned him against let- 
ting any old cadet get hold of. It was pasted 
on the board. He could not tear it. Oh, what 
would he not have given to burn every word and 
line ! “ Read, sir,” ordered the cadet in author- 

ity, evidently a First Class man. 

“Read, sir,” in solemn unison chorussed some 
fifty yearlings. In vain he protested, in vain he 
begged off. The audience was inexorable. 

In low tone at first, but elevating his voice in 
response to imperative “ Louder !” from every side, 
he tried to slur and scurry through, but “ Slower, 


78 


sir.” “ Enunciate carefully, sir,” were the next 
orders, and he had to obey. Now the only inter- 
ruption was a faint groan of dismay from some 
apparently scandalized cadet. At last he finished, 
and dropped the board and his eyes both in con- 
fusion. Dead silence for a moment. Then the 
circle widened. The cadets, as though awe-strick- 
en, fell slowly back. The solemn voice was heard. 

“ And to think that this paragon has been mis- 
taken for an ordinary plebe ! It is incomprehen- 
sible ! Mr. Frazier — Captain Frazier — will you 
have the goodness to read that just once more ?” 

Frazier would have refused, but some lingering 
grain of sense told him the better course was now 
to obey. Once more he began, his progress this 
time being punctuated by occasional muttered 
exclamations — “ Astonishing !” “ Prodigious !” 

“ I knew there was extraordinary power in that 
face the first time I set eyes on it !” “ Merciful 

heavens ! to think that we were on the point of 
asking a man so distinguished to sing for us !” 
This was too much for Connell. From the dark 
interior of the tent came a gurgle of suppressed 
laughter. Instantly two or three yearlings heard 
him, heaved him up on his feet, and hustled him 
forth into the company ground. Unparalleled 
audacity ! — a plebe laughing at the recital of the 
deeds of Major-General Frazier ! The circle gave 
way to right and left, and Connell was shouldered 


79 


into the midst, and made to stand facing his luck 
less tent-mate until the second reading was fin- 
ished. Then, even as poor Benny was hoping 
that Connell’s coming was to distract in a meas- 
ure their attention from himself, the same deep 
voice was heard declaring that this was too im- 
portant matter to be kept from the rest of the 
corps. “ March over to A Company !” was the 
word. Benny never knew how it was done. In 
the twinkling of an eye in silence the mass be- 
gan to move, Benny and Connell borne helplessly 
along. Resistance was useless. Hot a hand was 
laid upon them, but not a gap was seen through 
which they could escape. In another moment 
all B Company, except its plebe contingent, re- 
inforced by detachments of Third Class men 
from all over camp, was crowded into A Com- 
pany’s street, and gravely presenting Major-Gen- 
eral Frazier to the officials of the right flank com- 
pany, and demanding the third reading of The 
Examiner’s clipping. Poor Benny ! Hot until the 
tattoo drums began to beat far over across the 
Plain was he released from limbo. During that 
time he had been exhibited in every street in 
camp, had favored all four companies with ex- 
tracts from his biography, and was bidden to be 
able to recite it verbatim et literatim on the mor- 
row on pain of having to read it ten times over 
for every slip. 


80 


Meantime, thanks to the overwhelming inter- 
est attaching to the arrival in camp of their com- 
rade, the general, Geordie and the bulk of the 
plebe class were having a comparatively easy 
time. They sat or stood guard over their few 
belongings in the darkness of their tents much 
of the evening until turned out for roll-call. Oc- 
casionalty some old cadets would suggest that 
they “ turn out the guard,” form ranks, and ren- 
der the honors of war when Major-General Fra- 
zier and his escort marched through the company 
street. A young gentleman with corporal’s chev- 
rons on his sleeves called Mr. Graham’s attention 
to the fact that most of the water-buckets of the 
old cadets’ tents needed replenishing; and Pops 
said nothing, but took them two at a time to the 
tank down by the sentry post of Number Three, 
filled and replaced them. This done, he was in- 
vited to Mr. Proctor’s tent to see how cadet beds 
were made for the night, and, under Mr. Proc- 
tor’s tutelage, spread the blankets, etc., on the 
wooden floor, and was informed that at the 
sounding of police-call after reveille in the morn- 
ing he would receive further instruction in the 
correct methods of cleaning up and putting in 
order everything in and around the tents, on re- 
porting in person to Mr. Proctor. In all this Mr. 
Proctor’s manner was grave and dignified. He 
gave no orders, made no demands ; could not be 


81 


said to have exacted of a new cadet the perform- 
ance of any menial or degrading task, the penalty 
for which, as well as for hazing, improperly mo- 
lesting or interfering with or annoying new ca- 
dets, was court-martial and dismissal. Pops ac- 
cepted his lesson without a word, and when tattoo 
sounded and the plebes were assembled for the 
last time that evening, forming on the general 
parade, as the open space between the right and 
left wings of camp was termed, he felt that he 
had got off very easily. 

“ Now go to your tents ; make down your bed- 
ding just as you were taught in barracks ; do not 
remove your shirts or drawers or socks; hang 
up your uniforms where each man can get his 
otvn in an instant ; put your shoes and caps 
where you can get them in the dark, if need be ; 
turn in and blow your candle out before the drum 
strikes ‘ taps, 5 at ten. After that, not a sound ! 
Get to sleep as soon as you can, and be ready to 
form here at reveille.” So spake Cadet Corporal 
Loring, adding, “ Break ranks. March !” as re- 
quired by the drill regulations of the day. And 
at last poor Benny, ruffled and exhausted, was 
allowed to go to his tent. 

“Ok, I’ll get square with that gang! Just 
wait until I’m on guard some night next week,” 
whispered he to Pops. “ You caught it nicely 
for laughing, Connell. Next time perhaps you 


82 


won’t be so ready to chuckle when they’re mak- 
ing fun of a fellow’s relatives.” 

In his general disgust Frazier was ready to 
growl at anybody who had suffered less than he 
had. “ Misery loves company ” the world over. 
Little time was wasted getting into their blank- 
ets for the night, little more in getting to sleep. 
The last thing heard before the signal for “ lights 
out ” was Benny’s repetition of the vague threat, 
“ Just wait until I get on guard, then I’ll show 
’em.” 

And now followed three or four days of cease- 
less drill and duty. The plebes still “ herded 
together,” as the old cadets expressed it — formed 
by themselves for roll-call, drill, and marching 
to meals. They were granted a half-holiday after 
the chapel exercises on the glorious Fourth, and 
Geordie spent the lovely afternoon with Connell 
and others in a climb to the top of Crow’s Nest, 
and in the enjoyment of one of the most glorious 
views on the face of the earth. On the 5th their 
drills in the school of the soldier were reduced to 
two, in big consolidated squads, and the whole 
class began instruction at the field battery south 
of camp at nine each morning, and then were 
marched to the academic building at half-past 
ten, to be put through their paces at the hands of 
the dancing-master. 

Immediately after the return of the corps from 


83 


dinner on the 5th, Cadet Corporal Loring read 
from the list in his hand some twenty names, 
Graham’s among them, and followed it with the 
brief order to those named to fall in at two 
o’clock. Comparing notes, it was found that 
most of them were members of what had been 
called the first squad. No one knew what it 
meant until just before police-call at four o’clock, 
when the party came marching back to camp, 
each man burdened with clothing. Frazier’s face 
was a study when Pops and Connell returned 
to the tent, hung their glistening new uniform 
coats on the rack, folded their ten pairs of white 
trousers in the lockers, and tried the effect of the 
natty dress hats in the little looking-glass. Like 
many another boy, Benny was learning that there 
was a wide difference between the official and 
the family estimate of his military aptitude. 
The idea that twenty of his class-mates could be 
put in full uniform and readiness for guard duty 
and he not one of them was something that had 
not occurred to him as a possibility. 

“ Mr. Graham, get ready to march on guard 
to-morrow morning,” said Loring to Pops that 
evening just before retreat roll-call. u You, too, 
Mr. Connell.” 

And that evening the plebes of B Company 
congregated for an hour about the tent to see 
the preparations of their first representatives. In 


84 


some way the word had gone around that Gra- 
ham was “ getting a shine on his gun ” the like 
of which no one had seen before. Frazier, with 
others of his class, luckless fellows who by un- 
guarded use of their tongues had made them- 
selves conspicuous, were, as usual, entertaining a 
circle of old cadets, who demanded songs, recita- 
tions, dissertations, anything to keep them busy 
and miserable, and so it was tattoo before Frazier 
came back to the tent. Almost the last thing 
given to Geordie by his old friends of the caval- 
ry before he came away from Fort Reynolds 
was a complete kit for cleaning and polishing 
arms and accoutrements. Many an hour of his 
boyhood had been spent watching the men at 
work on their arms, pouches, boxes, sling-belts, 
etc., and learning how to put the handsomest 
polish on either brown steel or black walnut. 
Buff board, heel ball, beeswax, linseed oil — all 
their stock in trade he had long since found the 
use of, and already his rifle and accoutrements 
had been touched up as new cadets never saw 
them ; but not until this evening had he unboxed 
his trooper kit; and with a dozen class-mates 
eagerly looking on, Geordie squatted on his pile 
of blankets and worked away by candle-light. 
Ten of the plebe class had been warned for 
guard, and notified to appear in full uniform 
so that they might undergo preliminary inspec- 


85 


tion. Nearly ninety eager boys, still in Quaker 
gray, swarmed about these distinguished and 
envied pioneers as they successively arrived. 
But the greatest interest centred in the B Com- 
pany contingent. Graham purposely kept to 
his tent until the moment before the assembly 
sounded, but even among the yearlings there 
were nods of approbation and comments of 
“ Well done, plebe,” as he came forth, catching 
the pompon of his shako in the tent-flap as he 
did so, and blushing not a little in consequence. 
Connell, too, had patterned by his friend’s ex- 
perience. Their cartridge - boxes had of course 
been varnished, just as were those of the rest 
of the corps, but the bronzed bayonet scabbards 
and their leather attachments wore a gloss and 
polish new even to the eyes of the old cadets. 
Luckily for the two the voice of Mr. Loring 
was heard ordering them to “ Step out lively,” 
and they escaped for the moment the scrutiny 
and question of the yearlings. But the whole 
plebe class heard a few minutes later Mr. Mer- 
rick’s “ Yery well indeed, Mr. Graham,” at sight 
of the sturdy young fellow’s glistening equip- 
ments and snowy belts. Then he took the rifle 
which Geordie had tossed up to the “ inspec- 
tion arms” of the old tactics, and with evident 
surprise in his tone, as well as satisfaction, ex- 
claimed : 


86 


“ Where did you learn to clean a rifle like this, 
sir?” 

“ Out West among the soldiers,” was the brief 
reply. 

The commandant, with Lieutenant Allen, came 
along at the moment to take a look at the first 
representatives of the new class for guard. As 
luck would have it, Graham and Connell were 
about the last of the ten, and were at the left of 
the squad. All looked neat and trim, and Mr. 
Merrick had made his selection with care; but 
the expert eye rarely fails to find something 
about one’s initial appearance in uniform that 
betrays the plebe. The Colonel made no com- 
ment until he reached Connell. Then he turned 
to Mr. Allen. 

“Very neat and soldierly, especially here on 
the left,” he said. 

Cadet Merrick, without a word, held up Gra- 
ham’s rifle. The Colonel took it, glanced quickly 
along the polished weapon, and then at Geordie, 
standing steadily at attention, with his blue eyes 
straight to the front. 

“You must have seen service, sir,” he said, 
with a smile. “ That’s a very handsome rifle,” 
and handed it back. 

“ Who is that young gentleman ?” asked he of 
Lieutenant Allen, as they turned away. 

And then— alas for all McCrea’s kindly advice ! 


87 


alas for all his own precautions! — our Geordie 
heard Mr. Allen’s reply. It was meant to be 
for the Colonel alone. It reached, however, the 
strained and attentive ears of half the plebe con- 
tingent. His days of modest retirement were 
at an end ; his time for plague, pestilence, and 
torment was come. 

“ That’s Mr. Graham, Ralph McCrea’s protege. 
You’ve heard of him before, Colonel ; that’s ‘ Cor- 
poral Pops.’” 

The instant the order “Break ranks!” was 
given, Benny Frazier rushed upon Geordie with 
delight almost too eager, and loudly hailed him 
as Corporal Pops. The pet name of his boy days 
had followed him to the Point. 


CHAPTER VI 


It takes but little time for a boy to win a 
nickname in the corps of cadets, though a life- 
time may not rid him of it. Physical peculiari- 
ties are turned to prompt account, and no account 
is taken of personal feelings. Certain fixed rules 
obtain as to the eldest and youngest of each class. 
They are respectively “ Dad ” and “ Babe.” Oth- 
erwise a young fellow becomes “ Fatty ” or “ Skin- 
ny,” “Whity” or “Cuffy,” “Beauty” (if ugly), 
“Curly,” or “Pinky,” “Shanks” or “Legs,” 
“ Bones,” etc., if in any way remarkable from an 
anatomical point of view; “Sissy,” “Fanny,” 
“Carrie,” if rosy -cheeked and clear - skinned, 
whether otherwise effeminate or not. All these, 
more or less, depended upon physical charms 
or faults, and these are apt to be settled at the 
start. So, too, such titles as “ Parson,” “ Deacon,” 
“ Squire.” Others come in as lasting mementos 
of some unfortunate break in recitation or blun- 
der in drill. 

But no term or title is so calculated to convey 
with it so much of exasperation in the case of the 
plebe, strange as it may seem, as one which is ex- 


89 


clusively military. Just why this should be so it 
is difficult to explain. The end and aim of West 
Point existence is the winning of a commission 
that opens the way to a series, perhaps, of milb 
tary titles ; yet let a plebe be saddled with some 
such appendage to his name, and all the explana- 
tions in the world cannot save him from miscom 
ception and annoyance. 

From the time a new cadet is fairly in uniform 
and a member of the battalion, he has perhaps no 
higher ambition than that of being made a cor- 
poral at the end of his year of probation. It is 
indeed a case where “many are called but few 
chosen.” Four out of five are doomed to disap- 
pointment, but the head of the class in scholarship 
stands not so high in cadet esteem as he who heads 
the list of officers. To be made senior corporal at 
the end of the first year, and, as such, acting ser- 
geant-major, or first sergeant throughout camp, 
in the absence of the Second Class or furlough 
men, is to be the envied of almost every other 
yearling ; but to have conferred upon one in his 
plebe camp by common consent the title of “ Cor- 
poral” carries with it a weight of annoyance lit- 
tle appreciated outside of the gray battalion ; and 
it was Geordie Graham’s luck to begin his very 
first tour of guard duty with this luckless han- 
dle — that, too, coupled with the diminutive of 
“ Pops.” 

7 


90 


Even as he paced up and down the shaded path 
of Number Three, he could hear the mischievous 
delight with which the old cadets pointed him 
out as the new corporal, and could not but hear 
the somewhat malicious allusions made by his 
own classmates, some of whom (for there is a 
heap of human nature in every plebe class that 
has to be hammered out of it in course of time) 
were not very sorry to see a cloud of worry gath- 
ering over the first of their number to win praise 
for soldierly excellence, and none were more 
ready — hard as it may be to say so — than his 
tent-mate Frazier. 

Geordie swallowed it all in silence, vigilantly 
walking the post assigned him, paying strict at- 
tention to the instructions given him every few 
moments by the officers of the guard. Time and 
again, as a boy, he had played at walking post in 
front of the doctor’s quarters, punctiliously salut- 
ing officers in the daytime, and sternly challeng- 
ing after dark before being hustled off to bed. 
All this stood him in good stead now. He had 
studied the cool, professional way of the regu- 
lars on sentry duty, and looked far more at home 
on post this bright July day than any of his class- 
mates. Both Lieutenant Allen, who was officer 
in charge, and Cadet Captain Leonard, who was 
officer of the day, said, “Yery well indeed, sir!” 
as he repeated the long list of his instructions. 


91 


It galled him to think that when gentlemen of 
their standing should treat him with such respect, 
and when the general regulations of the army- 
provided that all persons of whatsoever rank in 
the service should observe respect towards sen- 
tries, so many old cadets, lolling in the shade of 
their tent -flies in Company A, so many class- 
mates skipping along inside his post on the path 
leading to the shoeblack’s or the water -tank, 
should make audible comments about the “ cor- 
poral on post.” 

His life had been spent on the frontier, where 
the safety of the camp depended on the vigilance 
of the sentry, and where no man, high or low, be- 
haved towards a soldier on such duty except with 
the utmost respect. He remembered what Mc- 
Crea had told him, that even as a sentry on post — 
indeed, more so at such times than at any other, 
so long as he was green and unaccustomed to the 
duty — it was the habit of the old cadets in the 
old days to “devil” and torment the plebe in 
every conceivable way. But Geordie argued that 
he was not green. He knew the main points of 
sentry duty as well as any cadet, though nowhere 
are the finer points, the more intricate tests, so 
taught as they are at the Military Academy. 

It was actually his misfortune that he knew 
so much. Geordie Graham might have been 
spared many an hour of trouble and injustice 


92 


and misrepresentation had he not been imbued 
with the soldier idea of the sacred character of 
the sentinel. It was one thing to submit to 
the unwritten laws and customs of the corps of 
cadets, so long as they were applied to him in 
his personal capacity. It was a very different 
matter, however, in his judgment, to be inter- 
fered with or molested as a member of the guard. 

His first “two hours on” in the morning passed 
without material annoyance, for most of the 
corps were out of camp at drill. At dinner-time, 
after marching down with the guard, he found 
his class-mates at the B Company table, to 
which he had been assigned, awaiting his com- 
ing with no little eagerness ; but as the yearlings 
began their quizzing the instant he took his seat 
and unfolded his napkin, Frazier and Burns were 
forced to be silent. Connell had remained with 
the relief posted at camp during the absence of 
the battalion, so Pops had his fire to undergo 
all alone. The Third Class men hailed him, of 
course, by his recently discovered title. 

“ Ah ! the cavalry corporal of Camp Coyote !” 
exclaimed Mr. Higgs, the nearest of his torment- 
ors. “Corporal, suppose that you found your 
post suddenly invaded at night, sir, by the simul- 
taneous appearance of the general - in - chief and 
staff on the east, the commandant and corporal 
of the guard on the west, the superintendent and 



ON GUARD DUTY 









93 


a brass -band on the north, Moses and the ten 
commandments on the south, and the ghost of 
Horace Greeley on the other side, which would 
you first advance with the countersign ?” 

Mr. Woods, another young gentleman whose 
years at the Academy had conferred upon him 
the right to catechise, wished to be informed what 
Corporal Graham’s — er — excuse me — Corporal 
Pops’s — course would be in the event of a night 
attack of Sioux squaws upon his post. A third 
young gentleman demanded to be informed if he 
had ever been regularly posted as a sentry before, 
and to this question Pops truthfully answered 
“ Ho, sir,” and went on eating his dinner as plac- 
idly as he could, keeping up a good-natured grin 
the while, and striving not to be ruffled. 

But Frazier, smarting under his own worri- 
ments, jealous, too, of the comments that he had 
overheard from the lips of fair-minded cadets, 
who could not but notice Graham’s easy mastery 
of sentry duty, was only waiting for a chance to 
give Pops a dig on his own account. At last the 
chance seemed to come, and Benny, eager to show 
old cadets and new comrades both how much 
more a BeantonHigh-school cadet knew of sentry 
duty than a frontier plebe, lucklessly broke forth : 

“Hice blunder you made this morning, Gra- 
ham, turning your back on the officer of the 
day, instead of facing him and saluting !” And 


94 


Benny looked triumphantly about him. The oth- 
er plebes within hearing pricked up their ears, as 
a matter of course. 

“ Is that so ?” asked Pops. “ When was it ?” 

“ Oh, you needn’t pretend you didn’t see him ! 
I saw you ; so did Green here. Didn’t I, Green ? 
I spoke of it at the time. You looked right at 
him as he came around from A Company street 
past the adjutant’s tent, and instead of stop- 
ping and presenting arms you deliberately turned 
your back on him, and stood facing Fort Clinton 
while he passed along behind you.” 

Alas, poor Benny ! Even yet he had not be- 
gun to learn how dangerous a thing was a little 
learning. Graham’s reply was perfectly quiet 
and placid. 

“ I was taught this morning that when an offi- 
cer passed along in rear of the post without at- 
tempting to cross it, simply to stand at a carry, 
facing outwards. I never heard of its being done 
any other way.” 

“ Ho, ho !” laughed Benny. “ Why, the very 
first thing a soldier’s taught is to look towards 
the officer he salutes, and never to turn his back. 
Ain’t it so, Mr. Cross?” he asked, confidently and 
appealingly of the corporal of the guard, who 
had arisen, listening with a grin on his face while 
puffing on his gloves. 

“You have a heap to learn yet, young man,” 


95 


was the withering reply. “ A sentry always faces 
outward in camp when an officer passes by, even 
if he passes behind his post, in which case he 
doesn’t even salute. I gave Mr. Graham those 
orders myself, sir.” 

Pops was wise enough to hold his peace, and 
never admit that he knew it all before; nor 
did he join in the burst of laughter at Ben- 
ny’s expense. Frazier, indignant, discomfited, 
shamed again before them all, glared wratli- 
fully at his tent-mate, as though it were all his 
fault. 

But it would never do to let a plebe come off 
with such flying colors, argued Mr. Woods, of 
the yeai lings. One after another, insistently, he 
pressed Geordie with all manner of points in 
sentry duty, and all that were not broad bur- 
lesque were answered correctly, though it was 
evident that Pops was getting annoyed. At last, 
just before the order to rise was given, the year- 
ling leaned half-way across the table. 

“ Now, suppose I was to come, sir, in the dead 
of night to your sentry post, and demand, as your 
superior officer, that you give me up your gun, 
what would you do ?” 

There was strained silence among the piebes 
for a moment. Geordie’s blue eyes, blazing a lit- 
tle, were looking straight into the frowning face 
of his tormentor. 


96 


“ Do you mean without the countersign? With- 
out being an officer of the guard ?” 

“ Exactly, sir. Simply as your superior officer 
— as an old cadet to a plebe, sir.” 

The answer came in low tone, but without a 
quaver, and every man at the table heard it. 

“ I’d let you have it, butt foremost, between 
the eyes.” 

The sudden order for Company B to rise, in 
the voice of the first captain, put instant end to 
this exciting colloquy. Foster gave his leg a 
loud slap of delight. Even Benny rejoiced in the 
display of what he called “ Graham’s grit.” Mr. 
Woods made a spring as though to come around 
to Graham’s side of the table, but Cadet Captain 
Leonard, officer of the day, was standing not 
forty feet away, and his attention was evidently 
attracted. A class-mate seized Woods by the 
arm. 

“Not here, not now, Jimmy,” he - cautioned. 
“ We’ll ’tend to that plebe later.” 

Before the guard broke ranks on its return to 
camp the battalion had scattered, and the year- 
lings of Company B were in excited consultation. 
A plebe had threatened to strike Woods, was the 
explanation, and in the unwritten code that has 
obtained at the Point from time immemorial that 
meant fight. 

“ Nothing can be done till he marches off guard 


97 


to-morrow, Woods,” said the First Class man to 
whom the matter was referred. “ That ’ll be 
time enough to settle it.” 

But meantime Geordie was destined to un- 
dergo further experiences. 

That morning at guard -mounting the junior 
officer of the guard inspecting the rear rank had 
very rigidly scrutinized every item of Graham’s 
dress and equipment, handing back his rifle with 
a look of disappointment, as though he really 
wanted to find something he could condemn. 
Even a junior cadet lieutenant seems to consider 
it a mistake to be compelled to approve of any- 
thing a plebe can do. 

But presently along came the adjutant, to 
whom, as was customary, those old cadets of 
the guard who desired to “ try for colors ” tossed 
up a second time their rifles, inviting his inspec- 
tion. Trying for colors used to be quite a cere- 
mony in itself. The color-line in camp at West 
Point extends along the front of what is called 
the body of camp and parallel with its western 
side. It is the line along which the battalion 
holds morning and evening parade, and along 
which all four companies stack their arms im- 
mediately after “ troop.” The color-bearer furls 
the flag, and lays it upon the centre stacks ; 
a sentry is immediately posted, and there the 
colors and the stacks remain until 4 p.m., unless 


98 


it should rain. All persons going in or out of 
oamp must pass around the flanks of the line, 
and in so doing raise the cap or helmet in salute 
to the flag. It is the duty of the sentry on colors 
to see that this is done. Even civilians who may 
be invited into camp by officers are expected to 
show the same deference. 

Now an ordinary member of the guard has to 
walk post eight hours during his tour of twenty- 
four, two hours on and four off, but the color 
sentries had only the time from about 8.45 a.m. 
to 4 p.m. to cover — less than two and a half hours 
apiece — and at night they were permitted to go 
to their own tents and sleep, while their com- 
rades of the guard were walking post in the dew 
and darkness or storm and rain ; for never for an 
instant, day or night, are the sentry posts around 
cadet camp vacated, by authority at least, from 
the hour of the corps’ marching in late in June 
until the fall of the snowy tents the 28th of Au- 
gust. It was a “ big thing,” therefore, to win one 
of the colors at guard-mounting. 

Twenty-one cadet privates marched on every 
day, eighteen to man the ordinary posts and three 
the color- line, these three being selected by the 
adjutant from those whose rifle, equipment, uni- 
form, etc., were in the handsomest condition. 
Keen was the rivalry, and simply immaculate at 
times the appearance of the contestants. The 


adjutant would not infrequently force a dainty 
white handkerchief into all manner of crevices 
about the rifle, or corners of the cartridge-box, 
wherever dust or rust might collect, and a speck 
would ruin a fellow’s chances. 

On this particular morning, however, Mr. 
Glenn, the adjutant, was not thoroughly satis- 
fied with his color-men. He found some fault 
with two of those whose rifles were tossed up, 
and there were only four all told. And so it 
happened he had made the circuit of the front 
rank without finding a satisfactory third man, 
nor had he better success on the right of the 
rear rank. Coming to Graham, and looking him 
keenly over from the tip of his pompon down 
to the toe of his shoes, the adjutant’s soldierly 
face lighted up with interest. 

“ What is your name, sir ?” he asked. 

“ Graham.” 

“ Toss up your rifle.” 

Geordie obeyed, conscious that his knees and 
lips were trembling a little. Glenn took the 
beautifully-polished weapon, the interest on his 
face deepening. 

“ Did you clean this gun yourself, sir ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“If this were not your first tour of guard 
duty, Mr. Graham, and you had not to learn sen- 
try duty, I would put you on colors.” And all 


100 


the rear rank and file closers and most of the 
front rank heard him say it. 

Now while a plebe must be berated for every 
blunder he makes, and is perpetually being or- 
dered to do better next time, the idea of his 
doing so well the first time as to excel the per- 
formance of even the “ lowest -down yearling ” 
is still more unforgivable in old cadet eyes. It 
was not until dinner-time, however, that Mr. 
Glenn’s commendation of Corporal Pops be- 
gan to be noised abroad. The adjutant, in his 
dissatisfaction with the yearling candidates for 
colors, had virtually instituted comparison be- 
tween them and a plebe marching on for the 
very first time, and comparisons of that nature 
were indeed odious. And so it resulted that 
through no soldierly fault, but rather from too 
much soldierly appreciation of his duties, Geor- 
die Graham had fallen under the ban of year- 
ling censure, and was marked for vengeance. 

This is not a pleasant thing for an old cadet — a 
very old cadet — to write. There were plenty of 
Third Class men who, had they heard the adju- 
tant’s remarks as made, and the conversation 
between Mr. Woods and Graham as it occurred, 
would have taken no exceptions ; but such affairs 
are invariably colored in the telling, and gain in 
exaggeration with every repetition. There was 
no one to tell Geordie’s side of the story. There 


101 


were few yearlings who cared to question the 
adjutant as to the exact nature of his remarks. 
Without any formal action at all, but as the re- 
sult of their own experience the year before and 
the loose discussion held in group after group, 
by a sort of common consent it was settled that 
that plebe must be “taken down.” Not only 
must he be called upon to apologize to Mr. 
Woods on marching off guard on the morrow, 
or else give full satisfaction, cadet fashion, in 
fair fight with nature’s own weapons, but he 
must be taught at once that he had too big 
an idea of his importance as a sentry. That 
might be all very well a year hence, but not 
now. 

At the risk of court-martial and dismissal, if 
discovered, two members of the Third Class who 
had just scraped through the June examination, 
and by reason of profusion of demerit and pau- 
city of brains were reasonably certain of being 
discharged the service by January next, “ shook 
hands on it ” with one or two cadets more daring — 
because they had more to lose — that they would 
dump Mr. Graham in Fort Clinton ditch that 
very night ; and as Fort Clinton ditch lay right 
along the post of Number Three for a distance 
of some sixty yards, that would probably be no 
difficult thing to do. “ Only it’s got to be a sur- 
prise. That young Indian fighter will use either 


102 


butt or bayonet, or both,” was the caution ad- 
ministered by an older head. 

“Keep your eye peeled, Graham,” whispered 
Connell to him just after supper. “ Some of those 
yearlings are going to try and get square with 
you to-night.” 

Pops nodded, but said nothing. He had no- 
ticed that during supper neither Mr. Woods nor 
any of the Third Class men at the table looked 
at or exchanged a word with him. Frazier, all 
excitement, had overheard Cadet Jennings, one 
of the famous boxers of the corps, inquire which 
was “ that plebe Graham,” and had seen him 
speak in a low tone to Geordie. 

“I have a message for you from Mr. Woods, 
Mr. Graham,” was all that Jennings had said, 
“ and will see you after you march off guard.” 

Pops well knew what that meant. From many 
a graduate, and especially from Mr. McCrea, he 
had heard full account of the West Point meth- 
od of settling such matters. It differed very lit- 
tle from that described by that manliest of 
Christians, Mr. Thomas Hughes, in his incom- 
parable boy -story, Tom Brown's School- Bays 
at Rugby, and Pops had never a doubt as to 
what his course would have to be. It was one 
point he could not and would not discuss with 
his mother, and one which his father never men- 
tioned. Pops had said just what he meant to Mr. 


103 


"Woods, and he meant to stand by what he had 
said. 

But meantime other yearlings proposed to 
make it lively for him on post that night, did 
they ? W ell, Geordie clinched his teeth, and set 
his square, sunburned jaws, and gripped his rifle 
firmly as the relief went tramping away down 
the long vista under the trees. The full moon 
was high in the heavens, and camp was well- 
nigh as light as day. A nice time they would 
have stealing upon him unawares, said he to 
himself ; but his heart kept thumping hard. It 
was very late — long after one. Only at the 
guard-tents was there a lamp or candle burning. 
It was very still. Only the long, regular breath- 
ing of some sleepers close at hand in the tents 
of Company A, the distant rumble of freight 
trains winding through the Highlands, or the 
soft churning of the waters by some powerful 
tow-boat, south bound with its fleet of barges, 
broke upon the night. 

Mr. Allen, officer in charge, had visited the 
guard just before their relief was on, and, going 
back to his tent, had extinguished his lamp, and 
presumably turned in. It was very warm, and 
many of the corps had raised their tent walls ; 
so, too, had Lieutenant Webster, the army officer 
commanding Company A, and Pops could see the 
lieutenant himself lying on his camp-cot sleep- 


104 


ing the sleep of the just. His post — Number 
Three — extended from the north end of the 
color -line, on which Numbers Two and Six 
were now pacing, closed in around camp for 
the night, down along the north side, skirting 
the long row of tents of Company A ; then, with 
the black, deep ditch of Fort Clinton on the left 
hand, the gravelled pathway ran straight east- 
ward under the great spreading trees, past the 
wall tent of the cadet first captain ; beyond that 
the double tent of the adjutant ; then near at 
hand was the water-tank ; and farther east, close 
to the path, the three tents of the bootblacks and 
varnishers. 

The four big double tents occupied by the four 
army officers commanding cadet companies were 
aligned opposite their company streets, and some 
twenty yards away from them. The big “ mar- 
quee ” of the commandant stood still farther back, 
close to the shaded post of Number Four — and all 
so white and still and ghostly. The corporal of 
the relief came round in ten minutes to test the 
sentries’ knowledge of the night orders. Pops 
challenged sharply : “ Who comes there ?” and 
went through his military catechism with no 
serious error. Half an hour later the clink of 
sword was heard, and the cadet officer of the 
guard made the rounds, and still there came 
no sign of trouble. Twice had the call of the 



“ ‘ WHO COMES THERE ?’ ” 











105 


half-hour passed around camp. “ Half-past two 
o’clock, and a-l-Ps well,” went echoing away 
among the moonlit mountains, and still no sight 
or sound of coming foe. 

“ They won’t dare, it’s so bright a night,” said 
Pops to himself. “ Only an Apache could creep 
up on me here. They have to come from the side 
of camp if they come at all. They can’t get out 
across any sentry post.” 

Pacing slowly eastward, his rifle on his shoul- 
der, turning vigilantly behind him every moment 
or two, he had reached the tank where the over- 
hanging shade was heaviest and the darkness thick. 
Opposite the shoeblack’s tent he turned about 
and started westward again, where all at the 
upper end of his post lay bright and clear. He 
could see the white trousers and belts of Humber 
Two glinting in the moonlight as he sauntered 
along the northern end of his post. Then of a 
sudden everything was dark, his rifle pitched for- 
ward into space ; something hot, soft, stifling en- 
veloped his head and arms, and wound round and 
round about him — all in the twinkling of an eye. 
Cry out he could not. Brawny arms embraced 
him in a bear-hug. Sightless, he was rushed for- 
ward, tripped up, and the next instant half slid, 
half rolled, into the dewy, grassy depths of Clin- 
ton ditch. Unhurt, yet raging, when at last, un- 
rolling himself from the folds of a drum-boy’s 


106 


blanket, and shouting for the corporal of the 
guard, he clambered back to his post. Then not 
a trace could be seen of his assailants, not a sign 
of his beautiful gun. 


CHAPTER VII 


There was excitement in camp next morn- 
ing. Beyond rapid-running foot- falls and certain 
sounds of smothered laughter among the tents, 
nothing had been heard by any sentry, plebe or 
yearling, of the assailants of Number Three, yet 
they must have been three or four in number. 
Geordie was sure of that; sure also that they 
must have concealed themselves in the shoe- 
black’s tent or behind the trees at the east end 
of his post. Once clear of his muffling, his loud 
yell for the corporal of the guard had brought 
that young soldier down from the guard -tents 
full tilt. (It transpired long afterwards that he 
was expecting the summons.) It also brought 
Lieutenant Webster out of bed and into his trou- 
sers in one jump. “ Deviling sentries ” was some- 
thing that had not been dared the previous sum- 
mer, and was hardly expected now. The officer 
of the guard, too, thought it expedient to hurry 
to the scene, and those two cadet officials were 
upbraiding Mr. Graham for the loss of his equip- 
ment and equilibrium when Mr. Webster inter- 
posed. 


108 


Cadet Fulton, of the Third Class, was on the 
neighboring post, Number Four, and declared 
that he had seen neither cadets nor anybody else 
approaching Mr. Graham’s post, nor had a sound 
of the scuffle reached him. He must have been 
at the south end of his post at the time (as in- 
deed he was, as it also turned out long after), 
otherwise he could have seen the marauders had 
he so desired. Mr. Webster got his bull’s-eye 
lantern and made an immediate inspection of 
camp, finding every old cadet in his appropriate 
place, and unusually sound asleep. Meantime it 
was discovered that Mr. Graham’s shoulder-belt 
had been sliced in two, and that his cartridge-box 
and bayonet-scabbard were also gone. The gun 
and equipments, therefore, on which he had be- 
stowed so much care and labor, and the adjutant 
such commendation, were partially the objects 
of assault. The officer of the guard sent for a 
lantern, and bade Geordie search along the ditch 
for them. So down again, ankle deep in the 
long dew-sodden grass, did our young plainsman 
go, painfully searching, but to no effect. Lieu- 
tenant Allen, officer in charge, who had in the 
meantime dressed and girt himself with sword- 
belt, came presently to the scene and ordered 
him up again. 

“ One might as well search for a needle in a 
hay-stack, as you probably knew when you sent 


109 


him there, Mr. Bland,” said he, not over-placidly. 
He was angry to think of such daring defiance of 
law and order occurring almost under his very 
nose. “ Go to the first sergeant of Company B 
and tell him to credit Mr. Graham with a full 
tour of guard duty, and order the supernumerary 
to report at once at the guard-house. Mr. Jay” 
— this to the corporal of the guard — “you re- 
main here in charge of this post until relieved. 
How go to your tent, Mr. Graham, and get to 
bed. You’ve done very well, sir. This matter 
will be investigated in the morning.” 

But Pops was mad, as he afterwards expressed 
it, “ clean through.” “ I’ll go if you order me to, 
sir, but I’d rather borrow a gun and serve my 
tour out, and let them try it again.” And Mr. 
Allen, after a moment’s reflection, said: “ Yery 
well ; do so if you choose.” 

Whereupon Geordie went to his tent, finding 
Benny awake and eager for particulars. Tak- 
ing Foster’s gun and “ trimmings,” as they used 
to call cadet equipments in the old days, he hur- 
ried back. Mr. Allen was still there. 

“ Did you recognize no one — did you hear no 
voice — see nothing by which you could identify 
any one ?” he asked. 

“ Ho, sir; it was all done quick as a flash. I 
didn’t hear a thing.” 

“Have you had any difficulty with anv- 


110 


body? Had you any inkling that this was to 
happen ?” 

Graham hesitated. He knew the cadet rule: 
“ The truth and nothing but the truth.” Indeed, 
he had never known any other. He knew also 
that were he to mention Mr. Woods’s name in 
this connection, it meant court-martial, in all 
probability, for Woods. What he did not know 
was that that young gentleman was perfectly 
well aware of the fact, and for two reasons had 
had nothing whatsoever to do with the attack : 
one was that in the event of investigation he 
would be the first suspected; the other that, 
having taken exceptions to Mr. Graham’s re- 
tort to the extent of demanding “ satisfaction,” 
he was now debarred by cadet etiquette from 
molesting him— except in one way. 

“ I’m waiting for your answer, Mr. Graham,” 
said the lieutenant. 

“ Well, sir, I suppose every new cadet has 
difficulty with the old ones. This was nothing 
that I care to speak about.” 

“ With whom had you any trouble, sir? Who 
threatened you in any way ?” 

Geordie hesitated, then respectfully but firmly 
said : 

“ I decline to say.” 

“ You may have to say, Mr. Graham, should 
a court of inquiry be ordered.” 


Ill 


But Pops knew enough of army life to un- 
derstand that courts of inquiry were rare and 
extraordinary means of investigation. He stood 
respectfully before his inquisitor, but stood in 
silence, as, indeed, Mr. Allen rather expected he 
would do. 

“ Y ery well. You oan post Mr. Graham again,” 
said he, finally ; “ and you will be held respon- 
sible, Mr. Officer of the Guard, in the event of 
further annoyance to him to-night.” 

But there was none. At half -past three the 
relief came around, and Geordie turned over his 
post to Connell. There was some chuckling and 
laughter and covert glances on the part of old 
cadets when they went to breakfast, and Benny 
Frazier was full of eager inquiry as to what had 
become of his rifle and equipments. But Geordie 
was still very sore over his discomfiture, and 
would say nothing at all. Ho sooner had the 
detail broken ranks, after being marched into 
Company B’s street on the dismissal of the 
old guard, than the drum-boy orderly appeared 
and told Geordie the commandant wished to see 
him. 

The Colonel was seated in his big tent, and the 
new officer of the day, Cadet Captain Yincent, 
of C Company, was standing attention before 
him. 

“ There must be no repetition of last night’s 


112 


performance on your guard, sir,” Pops heard him 
say, as he stood on the gravel path outside await- 
ing his turn, and wondering why Mr. Bend, the 
acting first sergeant of his company, should be 
there too. Any one who happened to be on the 
lookout at this moment could not fail to see 
that a number of cadets had gathered at the 
east end of each company street, and, though 
busied apparently in animated chat with one an- 
other, they were keeping at the same time a 
close watch on the commandant’s tent. Mr. Vin- 
cent saluted, faced about, and gravely marched 
away, holding his plumed head very high, and 
looking straight before him. It wouldn’t do to 
grin until he had passed the line of tactical 
tents (as the four domiciles of the company 
commandants were sometimes called). Yet he 
felt like grinning. No one man could suppress 
the impulse of mischief rampant in the year- 
ling class, and Vincent knew it. And then Pops 
was summoned. The colonel looked him keenly 
over. 

“ You are sure you recognized none of your 
assailants last night ?” 

“ Perfectly sure, sir. I had no opportunity.” 

“Have you heard anything as yet of your 
rifle and equipments?” 

“ No, sir ; nothing at all.” 

“Mr. Bend,” said the colonel, “issue Mr. 


113 


Graham a brand-new rifle — one that has never 
been used; also new equipments. His were 
taken because they were the best cleaned in the 
class. We’ll save him as much trouble as possi- 
ble in the future — until those are found.” 

And so, instead of the “ veteran outfit ” that 
would doubtless have been issued to replace 
those lost, Geordie found himself in possession of 
a handsome new cadet rifle, bayonet, cartridge- 
box, and bayonet - scabbard. Mr. Bend, as in- 
structed, carefully registered the arsenal number 
on his note-book. The first and second classes, 
breaking ranks after their morning duties, came 
thronging back to their company street to get 
ready for dinner. The yearlings promptly clus- 
tered around Bend. 

“ The colonel tried to get him to tell,” said he, 
in answer to eager questions, “ but he wouldn’t. 
You’re safe enough, Woods, if you don’t push 
matters any further.” 

“But I’ve got to,” said Woods, in a low tone. 
“Jennings has seen him already, and Boss says 
it’s got to be one thing or the other.” 

Mr. Boss, the authority thus quoted, was the 
cadet first lieutenant of Company B. There are 
generally certain magnates of the senior class 
to whom mooted questions are referred, just as 
in foreign services the differences among officers 
are examined by the regimental court of honor, 


114 


and it may be said of Mr. Ross right here that 
he never refused his services as referee, and rare- 
ly prescribed any course but battle. There 
were still some fifteen minutes before the dinner 
drums would beat; and when Mr. Jennings came 
over from Company A and took Woods aside, 
the eyes of the entire street were on them. A 
prospective fight is a matter of absorbing inter- 
est from highest to lowest. 

“ One moment, Jennings,” said Bend, joining 
the two ; “ before you go any further in this mat- 
ter, I want you to know that when many a plebe 
might have been excused for giving the whole 
thing dead away to the commandant this morn- 
ing, Mr. Graham stood up like a man and wouldn’t 
tell.” 

“Of course he wouldn’t!” answered Jennings, 
shortly. “ Mr. Graham’s a gentleman. All the 
more reason why Woods can’t swallow his lan- 
guage.” 

“Well, see here; I think Woods brought the 
whole thing on himself,” said Bend, sturdily. 
“ This is no personal row, and that young fellow 
has been taught all his life that a sentinel is en- 
titled to respect, in the first place, and is expected 
to do his whole duty, in the second. I’m not 
‘going back on a class-mate,’ as you seem to 
think, but I want you, and I want Woods here, 
to put yourselves in that plebe’s place a mo- 


115 


ment, and say whether you’d have answered 
differently.” 

“We can’t back out now,” answered Woods, 
gruffly. “ The whole corps knows just what he 
said, and it will be totally misjudged if we don’t 
demand apology. He’s got to apologize,” he 
went on, hotly, “ or else fight ; and it’s not your 
place to be interfering, Bend, and you know it.” 

“ I wouldn’t interfere if it were a simple mat- 
ter of a personal row between the two ; but this 
is a matter in which — and I say it plainly, Jen- 
nings — this young fellow is being set upon simply 
because he’s been raised as a soldier, and knows 
more what’s expected of a soldier than any man 
in his class, and — by Jupiter ! since you will have 
it — than a good many of ours, you and Woods 
in particular.” And now the cadet corporal’s 
eyes were flashing. “ What’s more, Jennings, I 
believe Woods’s better judgment would prompt 
him to see this thing as I do, but that you’re 
forcing a fight.” 

By this time ears as well as eyes of half of B 
Company — First Class, yearlings, and plebes — 
were intent. Bend, indignant and full of vim, 
had raised his voice so that his words were plain- 
ly heard by a dozen at least. Fearful of a fracas 
on the spot, Cadet Lieutenant Ross sprang for- 
ward. 

“Hot another word, Bend! Be quiet, Jen- 


116 


nings ! You two can settle this later. I’m wit- 
ness to what has been said ; so are a dozen more. 
Go about your other affair, Jennings.” 

Jennings was boiling over with wrath. In 
cadet circles almost as much opprobrium is at- 
tached to the bully who is over -anxious to fight 
as to the shirk who won’t fight at all — not quite 
so much, perhaps — but Jennings turned away. 

“You’ll hear from me later on this score, 
Bend,” he growled. “I’m at Woods’s service 
for the moment, and I decline any officious med- 
dling on your part.” With that he strode up 
the company street, his face hot and frowning. 

Geordie was pinning a collar on his plebe jacket 
at the moment, and had resumed the gray dress 
of his class-mates in order to march with them to 
dinner. So had Connell. Foster and Frazier, all 
excitement, had been watching the scene down 
in front of the first sergeant’s tent. 

“Here comes Mr. Jennings, Graham,” said 
Benny, excitedly, and the next instant the burly 
figure of the A Company corporal — Woods’s 
friend — appeared at the tent door. It wasn’t the 
first time he had been accused of a bullying tone 
in conveying such a message. A First Class man, 
splashing his close-cropped head and sun-browned 
face in front of the next tent, emerged from be- 
hind his towel, and, still dripping, came forward 
as Jennings began to speak. 



“WOODS’S FRIEND APPEARED AT THE TENT DOOR ” 






• 

















* 








































\ 





































































117 


“ Mr. Graham, my friend Mr. Woods consid- 
ers himself insulted by your language at the din- 
ner-table yesterday, and he demands an apology.” 

Geordie’s face was a little white, but the blue 
eyes didn’t flinch a particle. 

“ I’ve none to make,” was the brief answer. 

“Then I suppose you will refer me to some 
friend at once. You know the consequences, I 
presume,” said Jennings, magnificently. 

“Just as soon as I can find some one,” an- 
swered Geordie. “ I’ll look around after dinner.” 

“Well, you want to step out about it,” was 
the curt reply. “ There’s been too much shilly- 
shally about this matter already.” 

“That’s no fault of mine!” answered Pops, 
firing up at the instant. “ Connell, you’ll stand 
by me, won’t you ? Mr. Jennings, you can have 
all the satisfaction you want ; and, what’s more, 
just you say that if I can find out who stole my 
gun last night there’ll be no time fooled away 
asking for any apologies.” 

“ Bully !” gasped Benny, with eager delight ; 
and Foster smote his thigh with ecstasy. 

“ All right, my young fighting-cock !” sneered 
Jennings. “ We’ll accommodate you — and begin 
to-night during supper. See that you and Mr. 
Connell here are ready.” 

“ Oh, one moment, Mr. Jennings,” interposed 
the First Class neighbor. “ Mr. Graham is pos- 


118 


sibly ignorant of the fact that as a challenged 
party it’s his right and not yonrs to name the 
time. Fair play, if you please, now ; fair play.” 

“Oh, he’ll get fair play enough,” said Jen- 
nings, impatientty. 

But here the clamor of fife and drum, thun- 
dering away at “ The Roast Beef of Old Eng- 
land,” put an end to the preliminaries. All 
through dinner nothing was talked of at the ta- 
ble of Company B but the coming mill between 
Woods and Graham, the first of the inevitable 
series of fisticuffs between yearling and plebe. 
Of course, too, by this time Graham’s virtual 
challenge to his assailants to come out and own 
up was being passed from lip to lip. Of course, 
it was always the understood thing that if a 
plebe objected to his treatment and demanded 
satisfaction, the offender must fight. Only, by 
the unwritten code of the corps, there were cer- 
tain things which it was held a plebe should take 
as a matter of course, and not look upon in the 
light of personal affront ; and being hazed on post 
was one of them. Mr. Otis, their next-door neigh- 
bor, took the trouble to explain this to Pops later 
in the afternoon, and Geordie listened respect- 
fully, but without being moved. He had been 
taught all his life just the reverse, he said. A 
sentry was a sentry all the world over, and 
whether Life - guardsman in London, soldier in 


119 


the Sioux country, or plebe at the Point, it 
didn’t make a particle of difference to him. “ I 
may be wrong, Mr. Otis, but it’s all the fault of 
my bringing up.” 

“ Confound the pig-headed young sawney !” said 
Otis, afterwards. “ He’s as obstinate as a mule, 
and, what makes it worse, he’s perfectly right ; 
only the yearlings can’t see it, and he’ll have no 
end of fight and trouble, especially if he licks 
Woods to-night.” 

How here was a question. Woods had all the 
advantage of the year’s splendid gymnastic train- 
ing, under as fine a master as the nation could 
provide. Every muscle and sinew was evenly 
and carefully developed. He was lithe, quick, 
active, skilled with foil, bayonet, and broad- 
sword, and fairly well taught with the gloves. 
He had borne himself well in the two or three 
“ scrimmages ” of his plebe year, and the Third 
Class were wellnigh unanimous in their predic- 
tion that he’d “make a chopping-block of that 
plebe.” Geordie was bulkier than his foeman, a 
splendid specimen of lusty health, strength, and 
endurance ; but he lacked as yet the special train- 
ing and systematic development of the yearling. 

“ Take ’em a year from now,” said Mr. Ross, 
“and there’s no question but that Woods ’ll be 
outclassed ; but to-day it makes one think of Fitz- 
James and Roderick Dhu.” 


120 


And so the afternoon wore away, and the ex< 
citement increased. Jennings was in his glory. 

“ It ’ll be a beauty,” was the way he expressed 
himself. “That plebe’s a plucky one. I may 
have to give him a lesson myself yet.” And he 
bared his magnificent arm, and complacently re- 
garded the bulging biceps. 

“ If it’s two years from now when he tries it 
on,” remarked Mr. Otis, when Jennings’s remarks 
were repeated to him, “ may I be there to see ! 
It’s my belief Mr. Jennings will get a lesson he 
richly deserves.” 

Despite every effort to keep the details secret, 
nine-tenths of the corps knew that the fight was 
to come off in Fort Clinton during supper-time, 
and such was the eagerness to see the affair that, 
despite the urgings of Mr. Ross, the referee, and 
Mr. Jennings, no less than thirty or forty old cadets 
fell out after parade, as they were then allowed 
to do in case they did not care to go to the mess- 
hall. It was a hot night, too, and so short was the 
time between evening-gun fire and the opening 
waltz that many of the corps were in the habit 
of “ cutting supper.” The thinned ranks of the 
battalion, therefore, conveyed no meaning to the 
officer in charge. Jauntily the gray and white 
column went striding away across the Plain, 
drums and fifes playing merrily. Pops never 
hears the jolly notes of “ Kingdom Coming ” now 


121 


without feeling again the throbbing of his heart 
as he quickly doffed his gray trousers and donned 
a pair of white, so as to be in uniform with the 
older cadets, Connell doing the same. Benny 
and Foster, though mad with excitement, had 
been ordered to go to supper. The absence of 
so many from one table would have aroused sus- 
picion. One or two plebes in C and D Com- 
panies determined to be on hand to see Graham 
through, though rare indeed are there cases of 
unfair play. They had borrowed old dress-coats 
and white trousers. Mr. Ross had duly seen to it 
that at a certain moment the sentries on Three 
and Four should be at the distant end of their 
respective posts and facing away from Fort Clin- 
ton, and as the battalion disappeared down the 
leafy avenue by the “ Old Academic,” Mr. Otis 
came to Graham’s tent. 

“ Now’s your time, lad, and I’ve only one piece 
of advice — clinch and throw him as quick as you 
can.” 

Two minutes later, all on a sudden, some thirty 
or forty nimble young fellows appeared at the 
northeast corner of the camp, darted across the 
north end of Number Four’s post while that sen- 
try was absorbed fifty yards away in a ’bus-load 
of ladies going back to Cranston’s after parade, 
and in less time than it takes to write it they 
were over the grass-grown ramparts of the old 

9 


122 


fort, and grouped about the shaded nook near 
the Kosciusko monument, the scene of hundreds 
of storied battles. Only two styles of combat 
were recognized at the Point in Geordie’s day — 
only honest fighting could be tolerated at any 
time, but it was the right of the challenged ca- 
det to say whether it should be fought to a finish 
from the word, without time or rounds of any 
kind, taking no account of falls or throws — the 
old-fashioned “rough -and -tumble,” in fact — or 
else by the later method of the Marquis of 
Queensbury rules. The slow and cumbrous sys- 
tem of the old London prize-ring had long since 
been abandoned. 

Acting on Mr. Otis’s advice, Connell had de- 
cided on the first -named, as giving less chance 
for Woods’s science and more for Geordie’s 
strength. And now, while in silence the eager 
spectators ranged themselves about the spot, the 
two young fellows threw aside coats and caps, 
and with bared chests and arms stepped forward 
into the open space among the trees, where stood 
Mr. Ross awaiting them. Each was attended by 
his second. Jennings eyed Geordie, and in a 
gruff, semi-professional style, ordered: “Show 
your foot there ! USTo spikes allowed.” Graham 
flushed, but held up, one after the other, the 
soles of his shoes to show that they were smooth. 

“ It seems to me that your man has no business 


123 


wearing tennis-shoes,” said Connell. “ Rubber 
soles give him an advantage on this turf. I pro- 
test !” 

Ross shook his head, but suddenly another 
voice was heard, and a new figure joined the 
group. A light shot into Graham’s face. He 
recognized Mr. Glenn, the cadet adjutant who 
had so commended him at guard-mounting. 

“ Of course it’s unfair, Ross. What’s more, the 
plebe’s shoes are new and stiff, and the soles are 
slippery. This thing can’t go on until that’s set- 
tled.” 

Mr. Ross frowned. Time was precious, but 
down in his heart he knew the adjutant was 
right. More than that, he felt somehow that 
Mr. Glenn was there in the interests of fairer 
play than he himself considered necessary, but 
there was no running counter to Glenn’s dictum. 
A yearling was despatched for Woods’s uniform 
shoes, and it was some minutes before he got 
back. Then the exchange was quickly made, 
and a second time the foemen faced each other, 
the yearling’s skin as white and firm as satin- 
wood, Geordie’s face and neck brown as autumn 
acorns, his broad chest and shoulders pink and 
hard. 

“Are you ready?” asked Ross. “Fall back, 
Mr. Jennings.” 

Woods instantly dropped into an easy, natural 


124 


pose, his guard well advanced, his right hand 
low and close to the body. 

“ Watch that right, Graham,” muttered Con- 
nell, as he backed away; and Geordie took a 
similar stand — clumsier, perhaps, but well meant. 

And then the simple word, “ Go !” 

It would have baffled an expert reporter to de- 
scribe what followed. Something like a white 
flash shot from Woods’s shoulder to start with, 
and then for just twenty seconds there was a 
confused intermingling of white and brown. All 
over that springy sward, up and down, over 
and across, bounding, dancing, darting, dodging, 
Woods active and wary, Graham charging and 
forcing the fight, despite heavy blows planted 
thick and fast. 

“Isn’t he a young mountain-lion?” muttered 
Glenn, below his breath. 

“ He’ll be worse than a grizzly if he gets Woods 
in a hug,” was the reply. “Look! he’s grap- 
pled !” 

Reckless of punishment as was ever stalwart 
Roderick, Geordie had backed his lighter foe up 
the slope, then 

“Locked his arms the foeman round.” 

A moment of straining and heaving, then down, 
down they came upon the turf, the plainsman 
atop. And then went up a sudden shout of 


125 


warning. The next thing Graham knew he was 
jerked to his feet. 

“Run for your life, plebe!” was the cry, as he 
dimly saw the crowd scattering in every direc- 
tion, and, led by Conneii, rushed he knew not 
whither. 


CHAPTER Vm 


“Who whipped? How did it end?” asked a 
swarm of old cadets of Mr. Ross, on breaking 
ranks- after supper. 

“ It didn’t end,” was the gloomy answer. “ Al- 
len jumped the fight and nabbed the plebe. He 
recognized me, too, I reckon, though the rest of 
us got away.” 

And so while the Fourth Class men made a 
rush to find their champion, the elders clustered 
about the referee for particulars. Geordie was 
found at his tent, looking very solemn, but quite 
cool and collected. He had changed back to 
plebe dress again, and had bathed the bumps 
and bruises on his brown face, Connell busily 
aiding him. His hand was swollen and sore 
from a sprain, but otherwise he was sound as 
ever. 

“We had Woods licked,” said Connell, em- 
phatically. “ Graham had him down when the 
rush came. Everybody seemed to know which 
way to go except ourselves. We ran slap into 
Lieutenant Allen, and he had to stop and take 
my name instead of gobbling the others. Yes ; 


127 


we’ve got to go to the guard - tent, they say. 
There’s no helping that.” 

This was hard news indeed. Fights are so 
seldom interrupted, and the system is looked 
upon so eminently as a matter of course, that 
nothing but the most outrageous luck could 
have led to this catastrophe ; and then to think 
of Graham’s being the victim — Graham and his 
second — while the real aggressors had escaped 
scot-free ! 

“ Not scot-free, either,” said one lucky plebe, 
who had seen the battle and yet escaped capture — 
“not scot-free, by a long chalk. Mr. Woods got 
one Scotch lick he won’t forget in a week.” 
Whereat some of the group took heart and 
laughed; and then who should appear but the 
adjutant, Mr. Glenn. 

“ How is it, plebe — any damages ?” 

Geordie looked up through a fast-closing eye 
as he buttoned his jacket. “ Hit pretty often, I 
guess, but I didn’t notice it much at the time. 
What troubles me is that it’s got Mr. Connell 
into the guard-house.” 

“ Well, that’s just what I’ve come to see you 
about,” said Glenn. “Don’t worry a particle. 
No one’s more sorry you were caught than Mr. 
Allen himself, I’ll bet. You’ve got to go to the 
guard -tent, but that’s only for a few days. 
There’s no dodging regulations, of course ; but 


128 


there you’ll be let alone, and there’ll be nobody 
to bother you. You’ve won the sympathy of 
the whole corps, and you did well, plebe.” And 
here the adjutant put his hand on Geordie’s 
shoulder. “ That throw was tip-top !” 

And then the assembled plebes would have 
been only too glad to give three cheers for the 
adjutant; but so big a gathering of the “ ani- 
mals” attracted the instant attention of their 
natural enemies, the yearlings, who swooped 
down to disperse the crowd, and the patrol came 
from the guard-tent, and with much show of se- 
verity the corporal directed Pops and Connell 
to fetch their blankets and come along. 

And so, solemnly, the two culprits were marched 
away amid the subdued remarks of sympathy on 
every hand — even the group of elders about Ross 
—and in much better frame of mind than that 
magnate, for the orderly came at the moment t6 
summon Mr. Glenn to the commandant’s tent. 
That meant the colonel wanted his adjutant; 
and that probably meant that those cadets whom 
Allen had seen and recognized as participants 
in the forbidden fight were now to be placed in 
arrest. 

Captures on the spot he had made but two 
— Geordie, breathless, bewildered, and half blind, 
and his second, Connell, who stood by his friend 
through thick and thin. All the others had scat- 


129 


tered the instant the warning cry of the scouts 
was heard ; First Class men and yearlings, vet- 
erans of such occasions, darting over the para- 
pet and across the road and down the rocky, 
thickly-wooded steep towards the chain-battery 
walk, better known as “ Flirtation while Mr. 
Allen, too dignified to run in pursuit, stumbled, 
as ill-luck would have it, on the men he least 
desired to come upon, if, indeed, he desired to 
capture any. 

But he recognized both Boss and Jennings as 
they darted away, and saw them prominent in 
the ring. This meant jeopardy for two pairs of 
chevrons. Boss, slipping back to camp at the first 
opportunity, eagerly questioned Pops and Con- 
nell, who had been escorted thither by the offi- 
cer. Had Mr. Allen asked them to name the oth- 
ers interested ? He had ; but, as became cadets, 
they declined to give their names. Glenn and 
Otis, the other two First Class men on the ground, 
had quietly retired among the trees in rear of 
them on hearing the alarm, and then made their 
way out of the gate as the Lieutenant took his 
helpless prisoners down the wooden stairway at 
the southeast angle. They had not been seen. 

As for Alien’s coming, it was accidental. 
Strolling with a friend from the hotel around 
the road that skirts the edge of the heights, he 
heard sounds from across the grassy parapet no 


130 


graduate could mistake. A fight, of course ! and 
having heard it, it was his duty to interfere. The 
next minute he was through the north gate and 
bearing down on the battle, when the outermost 
yearlings caught sight of his coming and gave 
the alarm. 

Ross and Jennings did not attend the hop that 
night. Before they had had time to array them- 
selves in fresh white trousers and their best uni- 
form coats, Mr. Glenn, the adjutant, had returned 
from the commandant’s tent and gone straight to 
his own. Presently he emerged, girt with sash 
and sword-belt, and that meant business. No use 
for any one to run and hide ; that merely deferred 
matters. 

“ Mr. Ross, you are hereby placed in close ar- 
rest, and confined to your tent. Charge — pro- 
moting a fight. By order of Lieutenant-Colonel 
Hazzard,” was the pithy address he delivered to 
his class-mate, with precisely the same amount 
of emotion which he might have displayed had 
he informed him he was detailed for guard duty 
on the morrow. And yet seconders or pro- 
moters of cadet fights were by regulations re- 
garded as challengers, and, as such, subject to 
court-martial and dismissal. Then he went in 
search of Jennings, and though that worthy did 
for a moment contemplate the possibility of hid- 
ing somewhere, he was too slow about it. Those 


131 


who heard Mr. Glenn this time declare he threw 
a little more emphasis into the curt order. 

And so, when tattoo sounded that night, Cadet 
Lieutenant Ross and Cadet Corporal Jennings 
were grumbling at their fate in close arrest at 
their respective tents, for, being chevron- wearers, 
they were exempt from confinement with the 
common herd at the guard-tents, where by this 
time were Pops and Connell, by long odds the 
two most popular and important members of the 
plebe class. 

And there for one mortal week the boys re- 
mained, having a very comfortable time of it, 
barring the nuisance of being turned out with 
the guard every time it was inspected at night. 
They were exempt from all the annoyance of 
their comrades down in the body of camp. They 
attended all drills, and lost neither instruction 
nor exercise. They had the unspeakable delight 
of being allowed, every warm evening, to raise 
their tent walls after taps, and sit and watch 
class-mate after class-mate taking his first lessons 
in sentry duty out on the posts of Two and Six. 

Especially Benny, when at last it came his 
turn ; and that self - sufficient young soldier, in 
just about one hour’s active deviling, had per- 
haps the liveliest experience of a lifetime. The 
officers in charge — for some reason that has 
never yet been explained — seemed particularly 


132 


deaf that night. The commandant and others 
were not disturbed by the racket, and Ben- 
ny’s instruction, coaching, and testing — above 
all, the testing — were left entirely to the cadet 
officers and non-commissioned officers of the 
guard, and, at odd times, to certain volunteers 
from the tents of Companies C and D, whose 
costumes were so confusing that their own com- 
rades couldn’t know them, much less could 
Benny. 

And so the crack captain of the Beanton Bat- 
talion was kept hurrying from one end to the 
other of his post, challenging an array of mock 
generals and colonels, armed parties, patrols, 
grand rounds, reliefs, friends with the counter- 
sign or enemies without it, that would have been 
simply incredible anywhere but on a plebe’s post 
at West Point. In less than twenty minutes 
poor confident Benny, who had guard duty at 
his tongue’s end and wasn’t going to be fooled 
with, had made every blunder a sentry could 
possibly make, had lost every item of arms and 
equipments, nerve and temper, and had been 
bawling for the corporal of the guard, Post 
Number Six, in accordance with the methods of 
the Beanton camp, and in defiance of the laws 
and customs of the regular service, all to the 
mischievous delight of the entire corps, until 
finally he could bawl no longer. He had sneered 


133 


at Pops for being ducked in the ditch and over- 
whelmed in the darkness, yet he, occupying 
an open post, had been so utterly bewildered, so 
completely overcome, that the poor fellow would 
have been thankful for a ditch wherein to hide 
his diminished head. 

They had been sent for, both Pops and Con- 
nell, and questioned at the colonel’s tent as to 
the other participants in the interrupted fight, 
but respectfully declined to say anything on that 
score ; and finally, just as it was noised about 
camp that the plebes were to be put in the bat- 
talion, and they were fearing their punishment 
might keep them back, they heard with beating 
hearts the order of the superintendent read in 
Glenn’s clear and ringing tones at dress parade. 
Even to them, in the ranks of the guard, with a 
crowd of hundreds of gay ly - dressed spectators 
interposing between them and the silent battal- 
ion, every word seemed distinct. 

For “ inciting, promoting, or otherwise partic- 
ipating in a fight, Cadet Lieutenant Ross and 
Cadet Corporal Jennings were hereby reduced to 
the ranks and confined to the body of camp east 
of the color-line until the 15th of August.” New 
Cadets Connell and Graham, for taking part in 
the same, were ordered confined to camp for 
the same period. All were released from arrest 
and restored to duty; and Pops and Connell, 


134 


shouldering their bedding, went back to their 
tent in Company B, and reporting to Cadet Lieu- 
tenant Merrick, in charge of the plebes, were wel- 
comed with acclamations by their class-mates. 

That night, for the last time, the new-comers 
marched to the mess-hall as a body. That night 
at tattoo, for the first time, they answered to 
their names with their companies. Geordie and 
Connell, rejoicing in having got off so easily (for 
their punishment practically amounted to noth- 
ing but forfeiture of the privilege of roaming 
over public lands on a Saturday afternoon or the 
mornings they marched off guard), and comforted 
by friendly words let drop by occasional First 
Class men, set themselves busily to work to put 
their rifles and equipments in order again. Dur- 
ing his week in the guard-tent Pops had caused 
his new box and scabbard to be put in his lock- 
er, well covered by clothing. The weather had 
been hot and dry, so that the handsome new rifle 
had not suffered materially. 

Two days later both Graham and Connell were 
on the detail again ; the First Class privates had 
been relieved from guard duty as such, and their 
names placed on a roster to serve as junior offi- 
cers of the guard. The twenty-one sentries were 
therefore taken from the Third and Fourth class- 
es, and on this particular occasion there marched 
on eight yearlings and thirteen plebes. As be- 


135 


fore, Geordie had done his best to have his uni- 
form and equipments perfect. As before, Mr. 
Glenn seemed dissatisfied with the condition in 
which he found two of the aspirants for colors 
among the Third Class men. Going back to the 
front rank, he indicated two young gentlemen 
with a gesture of his white-gloved hand, saying, 
briefly, “First colors, Murray; second colors, 
Wren,” passed deliberately by four other year- 
lings, Cadet Private Jennings among them, 
stopped squarely in front of Pops in the centre 
of the rear rank, and said, “Third colors, Mr. 
Graham.” 

And our frontier boy felt the blood surging 
and tingling up to the tips of his ears. How his 
heart danced in response to the sweet melodies 
of Strauss, as in waltz - time the band beat off 
down the line. How proud and happy he was 
in response to the ringing order : “ Pass in re- 
view! Forward, guide right!” The natty lit- 
tle column marched blithely away, wheeling at 
the angles, passing the statuesque officer of the 
day with perfect alignment and easy swinging 
step. Prompt and silent he stepped from the 
ranks at the order, “ Colors, fall out !” knowing 
that every eye would be on him as he passed 
in front of the guard. Then came the order, 
“ Best !” and then, instantly, in Jennings’s angry 
voice, “ By thunder ! that’s the first time I ever 


136 


heard of colors being given to a plebe when 
there were old cadets in line.” And every year- 
ling in the detail probably sympathized with 
him. 

But it was not the adjutant with whom Mr. 
Jennings purposed squaring accounts for the al- 
leged indignity, but the plebe whose sole offence 
was that he had obeyed orders too well. 

“Keep clear of that brute Jennings all you 
can to-day,” whispered Connell to his tent-mate. 
“ He means mischief.” 

And Geordie nodded. Instinctively be felt 
that that burly yearling was his determined ene- 
my, and that more trouble was coming. From 
Woods he had had not a word beyond the in- 
timation sent by Mr. Curtis, a quiet, gentlemanly 
fellow, that as soon as the excitement had blown 
over he should expect Mr. Graham to meet him 
again and finish the fight. Referring this to 
their First Class mentor, Mr. Otis, they were told 
that it was customary, though not necessary. So 
Pops simply replied, “ All right.” 

But Mr. Jennings behaved with rare diplo- 
macy. All day long he held aloof from Gra- 
ham, never so much as looking at him after the 
first angry outbreak. That evening, when re- 
lieved from guard and told he might return to 
his tent, Geordie really didn’t know what to 
do with himself. He would much rather have 


137 


been subject to sentry duty all night. How- 
ever, he carefully placed his prized rifle in the 
gun-rack ; and that evening a lot of plebes were 
singing and sparring for the amusement of their 
elders over in D Company, so Geordie went 
thither to look on and laugh. When the drums 
came beating tattoo across the Plain he returned 
to his tent, which was dark and deserted. Hot 
until after roll-call did Foster strike a light. 
Then Graham noticed that four or five Third 
Class men were standing and watching him 
rather closely, though keeping across the street. 
He stepped inside, intending to make down his 
bed for the night; and then, there stood Fos- 
ter, candle in hand, looking blankly at the three 
muskets. 

“ Why, Graham,” said he, slowly, “what’s 
happened to your gun ?” 

Turning instantly, Geordie saw by the light 
of the candle, in place of the flawless, glistening 
weapon he had left there an hour earlier, a rifle 
coated red with rust and dirt. Amazed, he seized 
and drew it forth, mechanically forcing open the 
breech-lock and glancing in. There could be no 
mistake ; from butt plate to front sight, barrel, 
bands, hammer, lock and guard, breech-block and 
all, it was one mass of rust. Dazed and dismayed, 
he looked for the number, and then all doubt was 
gone. It was his own old rifle, the one that had 

IO 


138 


been taken away his first night on post. His 
beautiful new gun was gone. 

One moment he stood irresolute, then sprang 
forth into the company street. 

“ Mr. Bend,” he cried, in wrath and excitement, 
“ look, sir, they’ve taken away my new rifle and 
left this, my old one, in its place !” 

“Who has done it?” snapped Bend, flaring 
up with indignation, as he saw the abominable 
plight of the restored weapon. “ Have you any 
idea ? Any suspicion ?” 

“Ho, sir, I can’t accuse any one. It’s too 
mean a trick.” 

A dozen yearlings were gathered by this time, 
saying very little, however, and some of them 
exchanging significant glances, but Bend turned 
impatiently away, ordering Pops to follow. 

“ Oh, Leonard, look at this!” he cried, as they 
reached the captain’s tent, and a long whistle 
of amazement and indignation was all the First 
Class man would at first venture in reply. 

“ That gun has been lying in damp grass ever 
since the night you lost it,” said he, finally. 
“ The man who took your new one knew where 
to find this, and was one of the party that downed 
you. Have you still no suspicion ?” 

“ Ho, sir,” said Geordie, with a gulp. “ I sup- 
pose they did it out of revenge for my taking 
colors this morning.” 


139 


“ Glenn ! oh, Glenn !” called Mr. Leonard from 
his tent door. 

“ Hello !” came the answer back through the 
darkness. 

“ Come here, will you ? lively — I want you.” 

The drums and fifes by this time were halted 
on the color -line, and the last part of tattoo 
was sounding. Bend turned away to superintend 
the formation of his company, but the captain 
directed Graham to remain. Presently the sol- 
dierly form of the adjutant appeared. 

“Look at that!” said Leonard, handing him 
Graham’s rifle. 

“ Hello, where did you find it, plebe ?” 

“ In my gun-rack, sir, just now, in place of the 
new one you saw at guard -mounting this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Do you mean that’s gone ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ That’ll do, then. Join your company. Leon- 
ard,” said he, as Geordie turned away, “ the man 
that did this dirty trick shall be kicked out of 
the corps inside of six months, if I have to drop 
everything else to find him.” 


CHAPTER IX 


Events crowded thick and fast into plebe life 
during the next few days. In the first place 
both the adjutant and Cadet Captain Leonard 
came to Geordie’s tent a little after taps the 
night of the discovery of the exchange of rifles. 
Pops and Foster were still awake, chatting in 
■whispers about the matter. Benny, who had 
been full of excitement and interest at first, 
seemed to be overcome by drowsiness and dropped 
off to sleep. The boys were advised by the 
First Class men to say as little as possible on 
the subject. Leonard would report it to the 
commandant., as in duty bound, but ask that no 
official investigation be made. He had strong 
suspicions, he said, and if the perpetrators were 
not put upon their guard something might be ef- 
fected. Then, next morning, when Mr. Jennings 
marched off guard he surprised his class-mates by 
denouncing the whole business as a low-lived 
trick. Of course the plebe ought to be “ taken 
down,” but not by any such means as that. He 
came over to B Company street as his class was 
dismissed after battery drill and talked at Bend, 


141 


who paid no attention to him. He went so far 
as to say that he believed no Third Class man 
had anything to do with the business ; it was the 
work of plebes who were jealous of the partial- 
ity showu Graham by the adjutant. There was 
the man who should be given to understand by 
the whole class what they thought of him and 
his conduct! Other yearlings chimed in with 
one view or another, but Bend, working away 
over some company papers in his tent, held his 
peace. Jennings, who had already an unsettled 
score with Bend, was galled by this cool, almost 
contemptuous manner, and the next thing any- 
body knew hot words were exchanged — hot at 
least on the part of Jennings, for Bend kept con- 
trol of his tongue and temper — and that evening 
occurred one of the most famous fights Fort Clin- 
ton ever saw, and Bend, game to the last, though 
outmatched from the start, was finally whipped. 
For three days B Company was deprived of the 
services of their plucky senior corporal, and little 
Hastings had to act as first sergeant while his 
senior stayed in hospital until his many bruises 
were reduced. Bend was not the only cadet 
whose name appeared on the morning sick report, 
submitted to the commandant, with “ contusions ” 
given as the reason of his disability, and every- 
body in authority knew perfectly well that “ con- 
tusions ” meant another fight ; but so long as no 


142 


one was caught in the act, no punishment fol- 
lowed. The difference between the cadet duels 
and those of the French fencers or German stu- 
dents appears to be that, though only nature’s 
weapons are allowed, somebody has to be hurt. 

But though declared victor, as anybody could 
have predicted he would be, Jennings was any- 
thing but a happy man. He had lost his chev- 
rons. He had lost much of the popularity that 
had attended him since the plebe camp of the 
previous year, when his class-mates hailed him as 
one of their champions. He saw that now the 
better men looked upon him as verging close 
upon bullyhood, holding that he had forced the 
fight between Woods and Graham and then 
forced another between himself and Bend, a. man 
whom he clearly outclassed. This in itself was 
enough to hurt him seriously, but there were 
graver matters afoot. Glenn had never yet 
dropped the “ Mister ” in speaking to him, and, 
by the unwritten laws of the corps of cadets, 
that meant “ keep your distance.” The invaria- 
ble custom of the old cadets, First Class officers 
and all, was to “ Mister” everybody in the Fourth 
Class from the date of their entrance until the 
coming of the following June — nearly twelve 
long months — but then to drop the formal title, 
and welcome the new yearling to the comrade- 
ship of the corps. Then every yearling in good 


143 


standing expected to be hailed by his surname or 
the jovial nickname, and in return to be accorded 
the proud privilege of addressing even the first 
captain and adjutant as friends and comrades — 
as “ Rand ” and “ Glenn,” as the case might be. 
West Point recognizes no secret societies, no oath- 
bound fraternities. There is one general brother- 
hood, initiation to which occupies fully ten weeks, 
probation nearly ten months, but membership is 
for life or good behavior. Now Glenn plainly 
said by his manner that he neither liked nor 
trusted Jennings, and Mr. Rand, the big first 
captain, who was at first so friendly to him, now 
began to hold aloof. It was anything but as a 
conquering hero he returned from the battle with 
Bend. He had expected no such display of cool, 
nervy, determined courage against such odds. He 
was sore without and within, though he had re- 
ceived, of course, no such heavy punishment as 
had sent Bend to the hospital. He sat with his 
silent second in his tent, applying wet sponges to 
his bruises and noting how few were the con- 
gratulations, how indifferent the inquiries as to 
his own condition. Later he was lying on his 
blankets revolving matters in his mind, wonder- 
ing what he could do to restore his waning popu- 
larity, when he heard some plebes chatting eager- 
ly in the B Company tent just back of his own. 
“ Graham’s got his gun again all right,” was what 


144 


they were saying, and before he could arrive at 
further particulars who should appear at the tent 
door but the adjutant and Cadet Captain Leon- 
ard. They bade him lie still, but they had a 
question or two to ask. 

“You were on post on Number Three last 
evening, Mr. Jennings,” said Glenn, “and for full 
an hour before tattoo, when Mr. Graham’s new 
rifle was exchanged for an old rusty one. The 
new rifle was found in the weeds near the dump 
hollow close to your post. Did no one cross your 
post ?” 

“Not a soul that I saw,” promptly answered 
Jennings, “and unless it was found in the 
south ditch of Fort Clinton, it must have been 
hidden nearer Number Two’s day post than 
mine.” 

“We have questioned Number Two,” said 
Glenn, briefly. “ He denies all knowledge of it. 
He says, what’s more, that nobody could have 
got away without his seeing him. It was Mr. 
Douglas, of the Fourth Class, as you know, and 
this was his third tour.” 

“ Oh, I can’t pretend to say no one got across 
my post. No one can be at all parts of that long 
beat at the same time. It was cloudy, too, and 
pitch dark. Anybody could have crossed up 
there at the west end while I was down by your 
tent. If the gun was found there, it is more than 


145 


likely some one did cross. It would have gone 
hard with him if I’d caught him.” 

“ Then you’re sure you saw no one— had no 
conversation with anybody ?” 

“ I saw no one cross. I held conversation with 
half a dozen — class-mates and plebes both — when 
I happened to be down by the tank. There were 
Cresswell and Drake, and Curry early in the 
evening; they were condoling with me about 
being ‘ broke.’ Then there were plebes coming 
down there frequently ; I had more or less chaff 
with them, and Major-General Frazier among 
them. I heard him spouting about his ex- 
ploits. Where was the rifle found?” continued 
Jennings. 

“ Oh, out near the east end of the old dump 
hollow, hidden among the weeds and rubbish,” 
said Leonard. “ But never mind that just now. 
It was brought to my tent, and you are reported 
to have said you thought it was the work of some 
plebe. Why ?” 

“ Well, lots of ’em are jealous of Mr. Graham 
for getting colors so easily for one thing. They 
think the commandant shows him partiality. 
They say it’s because Graham’s father is an army 
officer. That’s why I think they might have put 
up the job among themselves.” 

“Yes? And how did they know where the 
old gun was hidden — the one that was taken from 


146 


him the night he was dumped into the ditch off 
Number Three ? You think plebes did that ?” 

But that was something Jennings could not 
answer. He stopped short, and was evidently 
confused. 

There was indeed something queer about the 
case. Yery little the worse for its night in the 
weeds, thanks to there having been no dew, for 
the night skies were overcast by heavy clouds, 
the rifle was brought in by a drum -boy orderly, 
who said he stumbled upon it accidentally. Glenn 
had cross -questioned sharply, but the boy per- 
sisted in his story. It was the same youngster 
whom Benny had employed to buy him cigar- 
ettes at the Falls. Pops was overjoyed to get his 
beautiful rifle again, and, personally, well con- 
tent to drop any effort to find the perpetrator. 
Indeed, it seemed for a time as though nothing 
was being done. Bend came back to duty with 
discolored face, cool and steady as ever, and Jen- 
nings kept away from the B Company street, 
where he now had few friends. Geordie began 
to wonder when the yearlings would decide to 
summon him to Fort Clinton to settle the score 
still hung up between Woods and himself. It 
was awkward sitting at table with a man to 
whom he couldn’t speak. 

Meantime every day and hour made him more 
at home in his duties and in the new life. Of 



■ 





























































































147 


course it wasn’t pleasant to be everywhere hailed 
as “ Corporal” Graham, and to be compelled, 
whether in ranks or out, wherever he moved, to 
stalk along with his shoulders braced back, his 
little fingers on the seams of his trousers and the 
palms of his hands turned square to the front, his 
elbows in consequence being spitted to his side 
like the wings of a trussed chicken ; but this was 
the method resorted to with one and all the new- 
comers, whether naturally erect or not, to square 
the shoulders, flatten the back, and counteract 
the ridiculous carriage of so many — at least, of the 
Eastern city boys. Anglomania in exaggerated 
form was epidemic on the Atlantic seaboard just 
then, and to insure recognition in polite society 
it seemed to be necessary to cultivate a bow- 
legged, knee-sprung style of walk, with shoulders 
hunched forward, chest flat, elbows bent at right 
angles, and carried straight out from the side ; 
these, with a vacuous expression of countenance 
being considered “good form”; and strenuous 
measures were resorted to at the Point to 
knock it out of such college- bred youngsters as 
sought to set the fashion in the corps. 

But what appetites they had ! How dreamless 
were their hours of sleep ! How vigorous and 
healthful the days of martial exercise! Squad 
drills were all finished now. Fully uniformed 
and equipped, the whole plebe class was in the 


148 


battalion. A “ live ” superintendent was watch- 
ing every detail of their doings. The system of 
responsibility among the officers, both graduates 
and cadets, was such that no disturbance of any 
account occurred by night, no hazing of a harm- 
ful nature by day. The roar of the morning gun 
and the rattle and bang of the drums brought 
Pops from his blanket with a bound. He was 
always one of the first to appear in front of his 
tent, sousing head and chest and arms in cool 
water, then rubbing the hard skin red before 
dressing for roll-call. Benny, on the other hand, 
self-indulgent and procrastinating, copying after 
the old cadets, thought it more professional to 
lie abed three minutes longer, and then come 
flying out at the last minute, frequently to be 
reported late at reveille, and demerited accord- 
ingly. So, too, in many another matter. Howso- 
ever excellent he may have appeared on parade 
in command of the High-school Cadets, Benny 
was no model on drill as a high private. His 
wits, too, had a way of going wool - gathering, 
and while young men like Geordie and Connell 
paid strict attention to business and rarely re- 
ceived reports of any kind, the “Major-General” 
was in perpetual hot -water, and ever ready to 
lay the blame on somebody else. One thing he 
could do to perfection — that was make expla- 
nations. He wrote a beautiful hand. He was 


149 


plausible, pleading, and successful. He was as 
full of excuse as an Irish laundress. 

“ He's got more reports on the delinquency 
books than any one in the class,” said Pops, re- 
proachfully. 

“ Yes,” said Connell, whimsically, “ and more 
of ’em off.” 

And thereby hangs a tale. 

No cadet can expect to get along without ever 
receiving reports. Any boy who so desires can 
readily obtain reports aggregating one hundred 
demerit in a single day ; yet if he receive that 
many in six months, out he goes into the world 
again, discharged for failure in discipline. The 
breaches of regulation in the power of a boy to 
commit are simply myriad. Only by determi- 
nation to conform to rules in the first place and 
eternal vigilance in the second can he live with- 
out demerit. Even then the faintest slip — a 
loose button, shoestring, drawer-string, a speck 
of dust, a tarnished belt-plate, an instant’s moon- 
ing on drill or parade — renders him liable. To 
utterly avoid report one has to be all eyes, ears, 
and attention. 

Now, while it is hardly possible to get along 
without ever receiving a report, it is equally im- 
possible to be perpetually receiving them with- 
out being more or less to blame. Here was 
Benny’s weakness. He blamed everybody but 


150 


himself, and, so believing, sought to convince 
the commandant. Before camp was over it was 
said of him that he got off many a report he 
richly deserved — a most unfortunate reputation 
at West Point — for there the first lesson taught 
and the last insisted on was “the truth in every- 
thing, and nothing but the truth.” 

As read out by the adjutant each day after 
parade, and posted at the tent of the sergeant- 
major, the delinquency list of the corps was a 
long one. Every cadet reported for an offence 
from “ absence from reveille ” to “ dusty shoes ” 
had forty-eight hours within which to render a 
written explanation, something after this form : 

Camp Reynolds, West Point, N. Y., 

August 1, 18—. 

Offence . — Absent from reveille. 

Explanation . — It was raining. The tent walls 
were battened down. I did not 
hear the drums until some one 
called me. I was in my tent all 
the time. 

Respectfully submitted, 

A. B. Smith, 

Cadet Private, Fourth Class, Company B. 

A cadet reported absent from any duty had 
to explain and say that he was on limits at the 


151 


time or else be court-martialled. Except for ab- 
sences lie need offer no explanation unless he so 
desired. If satisfactory explanation were ten- 
dered, the commandant crossed off the report ; 
if unsatisfactory, he so indorsed the paper and 
sent it forward to the superintendent four days 
later. The cadet had still the right to appeal to 
the superintendent, but if no appeal were made 
it was posted in the big record books at head- 
quarters, and stands there yet in black and 
white. It is odd to read what little blunders 
our biggest generals made in their cadet days. 
How Geordie got few reports, and wrote fewer 
explanations. Benny spent half his time submit- 
ting excuses. 

One evening there was a crowd of visitors at 
parade. The band had just begun its march 
down the front of the motionless gray-and-white 
line. The commanding officer, Lieutenant Web- 
ster, in lonely dignity, stood with folded arms 
facing the colors out in front of the centre, the 
most conspicuous figure on the field. Twenty 
paces behind him was the long, deep rank of 
visitors seated on camp-chairs, chatting and 
laughing in subdued tones, and watching the 
gray battalion on the color -line. Suddenly a 
little mite of a boy, who had broken away from 
some gossiping nurse, came toddling gravely 
forth upon the sacred ground, and, with all 


152 


the innocence and curiosity of childhood, moved 
slowly yet confidently on until close to the blue- 
and-red-and-gold statue, and there halted with 
much wonderment in the baby face, and began 
a careful study of the strange, fascinating object 
before him. The spectators shook with merri- 
ment. The laughter could not be controlled, 
and in a moment the epidemic had reached the 
battalion. “ The whole front rank shook and 
snickered,” as Geordie afterwards wrote home. 
Mr. Webster’s face grew redder than his trailing 
plume, and he bit savagely at his lip in his effort 
to control his sense of the ludicrous. But when 
a French bonne burst through the line of visitors 
and charged jabbering down on the little inno- 
cent, only to drive him full tilt in between the 
battalion and its now convulsed commander, 
to capture him midway, and to be pounded, pom- 
melled, and stormed at in baby vernacular as 
she bore him away, “ Why, 1 just bust my chin- 
strap trying to keep from laughing,” said Con- 
nell, “ and almost every plebe in the line was 
‘skinned’ for highly unmilitary conduct, laughing 
in ranks at parade.” Plebes always catch it on 
such occasions. Geordie had controlled himself to 
the extent of suppressing any sound, but Benny 
had gurgled and chuckled and exclaimed aloud. 

And yet when the reports were read out the 
next evening, and the plebes w r ere holding an 


153 


impromptu indignation meeting, big Harry Winn 
stopped and asked Graham what explanation he 
was going to write. 

“ None at all,” said Pops. “ I suppose I did 
laugh — I couldn’t help it.” 

But Benny Frazier, who had not only laughed 
aloud, but uttered some expression of boyish de- 
light, said, “ Well, you bet I don’t mean to swal- 
low any two or three demerit if an explanation 
will get it off.” And Geordie looked at him 
without saying a word. 

Two days later the colonel sent for Pops. 

“ Mr. Graham,” he said, “ you have offered no 
explanation for laughing in ranks at parade; 
most of those reported have done so ; why didn’t 
you ?” 

Geordie colored, as he always did when em- 
barrassed. Finally he said: “The report was 
true, sir. I couldn’t help it exactly, but — I had 
no excuse.” 

“Well, in a case like this, where something 
comical really appeared, I do not care to see a 
cadet punished, provided he comes forward and 
explains the matter. Your tent -mate, for in- 
stance, explains it very well, and says he couldn’t 
help smiling a little, so I took his report off as a 
matter of course. It seems to me you have al- 
lowed several reports to stand against you that 
were removed in his case. I shall remove this 

XI 


154 


one. That is all, sir.” And Geordie saluted, 
and walked thoughtfully away. 

How could Frazier truthfully say he had only 
smiled ; or worse, how could he imply that he 
did nothing else, without so saying, when Gra- 
ham and others well knew he both laughed and 
muttered audibly ? Geordie began to understand 
why it was that Frazier seldom showed his ex- 
planations. 

Yet, when Benny eagerly asked him what the 
colonel said, Pops knew not how to tell him 
what was uppermost in his mind. And he had 
promised to be Frazier’s room-mate. 

That evening Mr. Glenn, the adjutant, called 
him aside. 

“ Mr. Graham, your confinement in camp will 
expire next week, and I understand Mr. Jennings 
is saying that as soon as you are released you 
will have to meet either Mr. Woods or himself. 
I have seen Mr. Woods, and told him that you 
have done all that is necessary ; that he was 
wrong in the first place. Now should Mr. Jen- 
nings make any demands, I wish you to refuse, 
and refer him to me.” 

Two days later Benny Frazier, with white, 
scared look in his face, said: “Pops, do you 
know anything about it ? Jennings has just been 
put in arrest — conduct unbecoming a cadet and 
a gentleman — and they say it’s about your rifle.” 


CHAPTER X 


Yearling faces in camp were looking very 
solemn one hot August morning. Cadet Jen- 
nings, in arrest, had sought permission to speak 
to the commandant ; had been granted an inter- 
view, and had come back with very little of his 
old confident, even swaggering, manner. He 
had been in close arrest six days, the object of 
much sympathy among certain of his class-mates, 
because it was given out that he was to be made 
an example of, all on account of suspected partic- 
ipation in the trick that had deprived a plebe, 
temporarily at least, of his new rifle ; which, ac- 
cording to yearling views, he had no business 
with, anyhow. Several things happened, howev- 
er, which wiser heads in the corps could not ac- 
count for at all. First, Jennings had sent fox' 
and held some confidential talk with Frazier. 
Frazier was seen that night in conversation with 
a drummer-boy in rear of the orderly’s tent — 
“ Asking him to get me some cigarettes,” ex- 
plained Benny. Two days later the Honorable 
Mr. Frazier arrived at the Point, and spent a 
long afternoon with his son ; and saw him again 


156 


in the visitors’ tent that evening. This time Mr. 
Frazier senior did not favor the officers with 
accounts of Benny’s prowess at the high-school ; 
he even avoided them, especially the superin- 
tendent and commandant, both of whom he re- 
ferred to subsequently as men with very narrow 
views of life. He spent a day at the Falls be- 
low, and took a West Shore train and hurried 
away. 

The last week of August came. The days 
were hot; the nights so chilly that the guard 
wore overcoats from the posting of the first re- 
lief after tattoo. In the distinguished quartet 
of occupants of plebe hotel Ho. 2 of Company 
B three at least had been marvellously benefit- 
ed by their experience in camp — “ Corporal” Gra- 
ham, Connell, and Foster. Their clear eyes and 
brown skin told of the perfection of health and 
condition; but “Major-General” Frazier looked 
far from well. He was evidently troubled in 
mind and body, and utterly out of sorts. 

Camp was to be broken on the 29th, and 
the tents struck, in accordance with the old 
fashion, at the tap of the drum. The furlough 
men would return at noon on the 28th. Once 
more the ranks would be full, and the halls and 
barracks echoing to the shouts of glad young 
voices; but meantime a solemn function was 
going on — a court-martial for the trial of cer- 


157 


tain members of the corps. Messrs. Ferguson 
and Folliott of the Third Class had been 
“ hived ” absent at inspection after taps. Lieu- 
tenant Cross, commander of Company D, who 
was making a bull’s-eye count about 11.30 
one moonlit August evening, found these two 
lambs of his flock astray, and directed Cadet 
Lieutenant Fish, officer of the day, to inspect 
for them every half-hour. It was 2 a.m. before 
they turned up — young idiots — in civil garb and 
false mustaches. Each had already an over- 
whelming array of demerit. Each had barely 
escaped deficiency at the June examination. 
Each felt confident his cadet days were num- 
bered, and so, courting a little cheap notoriety, 
they determined to make a name for what used 
to be termed “ recklessness,” and “ ran it ” down 
to Cranston’s Hotel in disguise. Their fate was 
assured — dismissal — and their trial occupied no 
time at all. Ho one recognized them while away 
from the Point. It was sufficient that they were 
absent from their tents more than half an hour. 

And then Cadet Jennings was called, and, as 
was the custom in those days, Cadet Jennings 
had asked a First Class man to act as his counsel, 
and Cadet Boss was introduced as amicus curioe. 
The court sat in a big vacant room in the old 
Academic that summer, an object of much in- 
terest to swarms of visitors impressed by the 


158 


sight of a dozen officers solemnly assembled at a 
long table, clad in the full uniform of their rank. 
It was also a matter of no little wonderment to 
certain civil lawyers enjoying a vacation, who 
looked upon the slow, cumbrous proceedings with 
sentiments of mingled mirth and derision. 

Our good Uncle Sam, when first starting his 
army a century ago, copied the pompous methods 
of the soldiers of King George as set forth in 
the Mutiny Act, and there had been hardly any 
change in all these years. Lieutenant Breeze, a 
lively young officer, was judge -advocate of the 
court, and appeared to be the only man who had 
a word to say in the premises. Counsel, unlike 
those in civil courts, rarely opened their mouths. 
Questions they desired to ask were reduced to 
writing and propounded by the judge - advocate. 
Answers were similarly taken down. The court 
had been in session only an hour over the year- 
lings’ cases when they sent for Mr. Jennings. 
Presently Graham and others, returning to camp 
from dancing-lesson, were hailed by the officer of 
the guard. 

“ You are wanted at once at the court-room ; 
so is that Major-General tent-mate of yours. Get 
ready as quick as you can, Mr. Graham. Full 
dress, with side arms.” 

Hastening to his tent, Graham found Benny 
already there, and in ten minutes they were on 


159 


their way. Benny was very white and scared, 
Geordie silent. Lieutenant Breeze must have 
been waiting for them. Graham was summoned 
in at once. Many a time he had seen courts- 
martial out on the frontier, and so went promptly 
to the witness seat and pulled off his right-hand 
glove. Breeze wasted no time in preliminaries. 
He knew his man. 

“ You swear the evidence you shall give in the 
case now in hearing shall be the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you 
God,” he said ; and Geordie, standing erect and 
looking him in the eye, his own hand uplifted, 
answered, 

“I do.” 

“ He’d tell it anyhow,” whispered a Hew York 
lawyer to a friend. “ That boy couldn’t lie if he 
tried.” 

While the judge-advocate was pencilling a few 
loose slips of paper, Geordie glanced around him. 
The sides of the room were well filled with spec- 
tators, ladies and gentlemen visiting the neigh- 
borhood, and curious to see a military court in 
session. Major Rawlins, of the Engineers, was 
president, while two captains and eight lieuten- 
ants made up the court. To the left of the judge- 
advocate, at a little table, sat Mr. Jennings with 
his counsel. Geordie took the chair to Breeze’s 
right, pulled on his glove again, adjusted his bay- 


160 


onet-scabbard, and sat erect. The first two ques- 
tions were as to his name, and whether he knew 
the accused. Then he was told to give, in his own 
words, the facts connected with the disappearance 
of his rifle. Few boys could have told the story 
more tersely. 

“What was the number of the new rifle?’ 5 
asked the judge -advocate, and Geordie gave it. 
Had he recognized, by voice or in any way, any 
of his assailants? Hot one. Had he been able 
to ascertain how the rifle was taken, or by whom? 
He had not. Was there no one of his tent-mates 
left at the tent the evening the exchange was 
made? Hone that he knew of. Where was 
Cadet Frazier that evening? Geordie didn’t 
know ; he did not see him until bedtime. Mr. 
Jennings was asked if he desired to question the 
witness, and wisely refrained. 

Certain members of the court looked as though 
they might elicit something; but when the judge- 
advocate said, in response to a whispered query, 
“ I have all that from another witness ; this one 
knows nothing about it,” the court subsided and 
concluded to wait. 

Even as Geordie was wondering if Mr. Breeze 
meant Frazier, and what Frazier could possibly 
know, the brief evidence he had given was read 
over to him, and he was told he could return to 
camp. The judge -advocate accompanied him 


161 


to the door, and Geordie heard him say to the 
orderly : 

“ I want that drummer Doyle at once. Why 
is he not here V’ 

“We can’t find him, sir, anywhere,” was the 
answer. 

“ Well, go again, and tell the drum-major to 
have him hunted up. He had no business to let 
him away from barracks.” 

As Geordie started out into the open air, he 
caught sight of Benny’s woe-begone face. What 
could have happened to him ? 

“ Detained as a witness before the court-mar- 
tial,” said the officer of the day to whom Frazier 
was reported absent at dinner roll-call ; but Pops 
found him lying on his bedding when they got 
back to camp. He didn’t want to talk, he said ; his 
head was aching. He was all upset about some- 
thing, that was evident. JSTo, he didn’t want any 
dinner. Jennings and his counsel had joined the 
battalion at the mess-hall with unimpaired appe- 
tites and confident mien. The plebe it was who 
seemed all gone to pieces. By parade-time a 
strange story had come into the camp by way of 
the visitors’ tent. Court had adjourned until the 
witness Doyle could be found, and Mr. Frazier, 
whose testimony it was supposed would mate- 
rially harm the accused, had not harmed his 
case at all. In brief, Frazier, acting under in- 


162 


structions evidently, tremblingly admitted that 
he was aware of some joke being played on his 
tent -mate that night, but refused to answer 
questions on the ground that answers might in- 
criminate himself. The sensation among the 
plebes was tremendous. Everybody jumped to 
one conclusion — Frazier must have taken part 
in “ the robbery,” as they now began to call it. 

But Mr. Ross came to the rescue. “ Wait un- 
til you hear the whole story,” he said. “It 
can’t be told now, but will be when the excite- 
ment has died away and it is safe to tell it.” 

And so the youngsters had to wait. Connell 
and Foster seemed to shrink from their class- 
mate instinctively. It was Graham who simply 
would not believe that ill of him. 

“ I can’t tell as yet. I’ve given my word to 
Ross and Jennings,” said Benny, with a wail in 
his voice. “ Don’t go back on me, Graham, and 
you’ll never regret it.” And, taking the side of 
“ the under dog in the fight,” Geordie held out 
his hand. 

The 28th came, and still no tidings of the miss- 
ing witness. Doyle, the drummer, had vanished, 
and no one knew whither. The furlough -men 
came back at mid-day, looking probably for the 
same tumultuous greeting that had been accord- 
ed their predecessors for years back — a charge 
of the First and Third Classes from camp, and a 


163 


smashing of Derby hats — but they were mar- 
shalled direct to barracks instead, and, completely 
uniformed and equipped, marched over to join 
the battalion in style most matter of fact. The 
plebes spent the last evening in camp listening 
to the distant music of the hop, and singing, re- 
citing, and dancing for the benefit of the re- 
turned Second Class men. Certain celebrities of 
their number were, with appropriate ceremonies, 
presented to such Second Class men as preferred 
“ devilment ” to dancing, among them “Corpo- 
ral Pops, the coyote - killer of the Colorado, 
famous as bear -hunter, scalp -taker, and sign- 
talker,” and for the last time Geordie was on 
duty entertaining old cadets until the tattoo 
drums, but no one turned out Benny Frazier. A 
yearling will not even have fun at the expense 
of a plebe whose conduct is considered shady, 
and the belief in the Third Class was general that 
Frazier, through motives of jealousy, had con- 
nived at the “hiving” of his tent-mate’s rifle. 

And yet when Connell said to Graham, “I was 
going to room with Foster, but I’d far rather 
live with you. Do you think we can fix it now? 
Foster is willing to live with Clawson,” he could 
hardly believe it when Geordie answered : 

« I’ve promised to live with Frazier, and though 
I’d rather live with you than any man I know, I 
won’t go back on my promise.” 


164 


Geordie did not tell what he might have told, 
that on the evening of the 27th, after a long 
talk with his father, who came at noon and left 
before parade, Frazier had almost pleadingly said 
to him : “ They’re all down on me now, Graham, 
and if you turn from me I won’t have a friend 
left in the class. If you and I room together, 
they’ll know you don’t believe me mean enough 
to take your gun. Appearances are all against 
me simply because I can’t tell without involving 
some poor fellows whom dismissal would ruin 
for life just because they’d taken part in what 
they meant to be only a joke.” And Graham 
answered that he meant to stand by Frazier until 
the thing was all cleared up. 

There were plebes who came to Geordie and 
told him he was making a mistake. So did Mr. 
Otis, but the latter went away all the more con- 
vinced that “ Corporal Pops ” was too pig-headed 
even for a Scot. It was almost pitiful to see the 
way Frazier clung to his companion now. It 
looked to everybody as though the boy were 
jealously afraid of seeing his friend and pro- 
tector, so called, talking with anybody else. Time 
and time again he reminded Pops of the agree- 
ment, until at last, annoyed, Geordie turned sud- 
denly upon him and said : 

“Look here, Frazier, does nobody keep prom- 
ises where you come from?” 


165 


Then Benny concluded it was time to hold his 
peace. 

In the presence of a thousand spectators on a 
glorious August day, every tent in camp went 
down at the tap of the drum, and what an instant 
before had been a white-roofed city turned into a 
bustling hive of gray coats, folding, rolling, and 
cording up the snowy r canvas. All baggage had 
been moved to barracks earlier in the day, and 
now in full ranks, all four classes present, the com- 
panies fell in, and the corporals, who had served 
all summer long as sergeants, stepped back into 
the ranks, and the plebes gazed in silent awe upon 
the grave, dignified young soldier in the white 
cross-belts and crimson sash who so keenly looked 
them over before reporting “ All present, sir,” to 
Mr. Leonard. The returned furlough-men took 
their places, as became members of the Second 
Class, in the front rank. Certain yearlings, much 
to their disgust, had to fall back to the rear, and 
as far as faces could be seen at all any one could 
distinguish which was which. The boys who had 
spent the summer in camp were brown as autumn 
berries; they who had spent their summer at 
home were pallid by contrast. 

For the last time in camp adjutant’s call sound- 
ed on the color-line, and the band had to take 
station beyond the sentry on Number Two, in or- 
der to leave room for the re-enforced battalion. 


166 


“ Guides posts !” rang out the adjutant’s com- 
mand. 

“ Keep your eyes to the front, plebe,” ordered 
the red -sashed first sergeant, returning to his 
station through the gap on the right, when he 
found two Fourth Class men gazing obliquely at 
him in mingled awe and admiration. 

Clash ! went the rifles into the gloved left 
hands as the battalion presented arms to Colonel 
Hazzard. 

“ Take your post, sir,” was that eminent sol- 
dier’s response to Glenn’s superb salute. Back 
to his station on the right fluttered the adjutant’s 
plumes as the companies wheeled into column, 
tossed the light rifles to the shoulder, and then, 
to the merriest, blithest of music, strode buoyant- 
ly away in the wake of the band, the drum-major 
boring with his tasselled baton a hole through 
the heart of the crowd. 

Geordie’s pulses beat high with every stride. 
Welcome hard work, hard study, even the long 
gloomy wintry weeks and months, for plebe 
camp and palms-of-the-hands-to-the-front were 
now things of the past. 

That night Glenn read the list of sections to 
which the classes were assigned. Great was the im- 
portance of certain Fourth Class men designated 
in orders as section marchers, and by no means 
inconsiderable was the jealousy among their class- 


167 


mates inspired by this purely accidental and tem- 
porary gift of authority. The Fourth Class for 
instruction in mathematics was divided in alpha- 
betical order into eight sections, Cadet Abbott 
being detailed as marcher of the first, Dillon of 
the second, Griggs of the third, Kenney of the 
fourth, and so on down the list. Frazier, who 
had been very meek for several days, asked Gra- 
ham if he didn’t think it extraordinary that 
they should be ordered around by a fellow like 
Dillon ? 

“Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him 
speak ten words. What makes them put such 
galoots in command of sections when there’s 
others, like you, for instance, that know how to 
handle ’em ?” 

Fops grinned. He understood what Benny 
was thinking of. 

“ It’s all part and parcel of the system of teach- 
ing fellows like me, as you put it, that obedience 
is the first thing we have to learn,” said he, 
good - naturedly, and then went busily on with 
the work of getting the room in the prescribed 
order. 

As plebes they had enjoyed only what is 
termed “Hobson’s choice.” They could have 
either the top or bottom floor on the north front 
of barracks— the cold, sunless front— and so they 
found themselves in the third division, or, as it 


168 


was technically termed, the “ Third Div. Cock- 
loft ” ; that meant on the top door of the third 
division from the east. It took little time to ar- 
range their household affairs. Each cadet had 
his own alcove or bedroom, separated one from 
the other by a wooden partition. On the side 
nearest the wall was a light iron bedstead ; on 
this a single mattress, folded back during the 
day, and made down only after tattoo. Piled in 
order on the mattress, folded edges to the front, 
and vertical, were first the sheets, then pillows, 
then blankets and “ comfortable.” On iron hooks 
in the partition, each in his own alcove, and in 
the following order from front to rear, the boys 
hung their overcoats, rubber coats (once called 
the “ plebeskins ”), the uniform coats, gray jack- 
ets, gray trousers, “ such underclothing as may 
be allowed,” and at the rearmost end the clothes- 
bag for soiled clothing. Against the front post 
of the partition was the little wooden wash-stand, 
a bucket of water, with cocoa-nut dipper, on the 
bottom shelf the white washbowl, inverted, with 
soap-dish, etc., on top ; a slop-bucket on the side 
opposite the hall ; a little mirror in the middle of 
the mantel-shelf ; rifles in the rack near window ; 
dress hats on the shelf thereof ; accoutrements and 
forage-caps hung on the pegs to the right and 
left of the rack; candle-box in the fireplace (which 
was neatly whitewashed) ; nothing on the steam 


169 


coil or heater ; all other clothing in the open-faced 
set of shelves termed the clothes-press ; brushes, 
combs, shaving materials, collars, cuffs, handker- 
chiefs, belts, and gloves, each folded or stacked in 
separate piles on the upper shelf; shirts, etc., on 
the next below ; white trousers, underclothing, 
etc., on the lowermost, and nothing under it ; text- 
books on the top of the press against the wall, 
upright, and backs to the front ; broom behind the 
door ; chairs, when not in use, against the table ; 
table against the wall opposite the fireplace ; shoes 
aligned at the foot of the bed, toes to the front, 
and always to be kept neatly dusted; “ clocks, 
pictures, statuettes, etc., not allowed.” 

Everything was kept in spick-span order, and 
the orderly board, giving the name of the cadet 
responsible for the general appearance of things 
during the week, hung on the pillar of the alcove 
partition. Each cadet posted his own name in 
plain block letters over the alcove, over his half 
of the clothes-press, over his equipments, etc., and 
on the back of the door his “ hours of recitations,” 
to account for his absence from the room at any 
inspection. For half an hour after breakfast, din- 
ner, or supper, and on Saturday afternoons, car 
dets could visit in barracks, or go from room to 
room. At any other time and during call to 
quarters, day or night, visiting, even to the ex- 
tent of opening and looking in one’s next door 
12 


170 


neighbor’s door, was punishable by demerit and 
confinement. 

When little Dillon came around to give out the 
first lesson in algebra, as received from their sec- 
tion instructor, Lieutenant Barnes, Pops was all 
attention, and carefully noted it in his new alge- 
bra. Benny wanted to chaff Mr. Dillon by ask- 
ing him if he supposed he could march a squad 
as far as the Academic, and was suddenly re- 
minded of his uncertain status by being curtly 
told to mind his own business. In ten minutes 
Pops was deep in his work, but Frazier, giving 
a sniff of contempt on glancing over the pages, 
tossed his text -book on the table, went to the 
window and, strumming on the glass, gazed long 
and wearily out upon the starlit sky. This being 
a West Point cadet wasn’t what it was repre- 
sented to be by a good deal. 


CHAPTER XI 


Mid - September came, and with it certain 
changes. The court-martial which had been in 
session during the latter part of camp stood ad- 
journed, awaiting the call of its president. It 
was understood that, owing to the unaccountable 
disappearance of a material witness, the case of 
Cadet J ennings could not be pressed. Musician 
Doyle had totally vanished, no man could tell 
whither. He had left his “ kit ” and his few be- 
longings at the barracks down in Camptown, 
and had taken with him only the clothes he had 
on, said the drum-major. Some people thought 
he was drowned, but most believed that he had 
deserted. He was last seen at the Falls the 
night before the convening of the court. In the 
meantime, Mr. Jennings remained in arrest with 
extended limits, which meant that he had the 
privilege of exercising in the gymnasium and 
walking the area, but could enter no division in 
barracks other than his own. The two yearlings 
tried at the same time with him were quietly 
summoned to the office of the commandant one 
day and told to pack their trunks. They were 


172 


out of uniform and off the Point before the order 
of the War Department was read that evening 
at parade dismissing them from the service. 
Benny Frazier was recovering his self-confident 
manner, and rapidly losing the meekness of spirit 
displayed during his troublous days the last week 
in camp, and Pops was losing something of his 
splendid brown color, and not a few hours of sleep. 

In very truth Geordie’s hard times were at 
hand. He was not a natural mathematician, and 
the lessons in algebra, so carelessly conned and 
tossed aside by his gifted room-mate, were prov- 
ing long and hard to our young trooper. Bar- 
rack life differed very materially from that of 
camp. Reveille came at the same hour, the gun 
and the drums letting drive together at the first 
stroke of 5 ; the drummers came marching in 
across the Plain and through the resounding 
sally-port, then rattled and banged a moment, 
one in each hallway, then reunited in the area, 
and by 5.10 the whole corps would be jumped 
into ranks at the brisk assembly, about one- 
fourth of their number rushing out only at the 
last instant. Then came the rapid roll-call, the 
few moments of sweeping and dusting before po- 
lice inspection, the brief soldier toilet, the march 
to breakfast, etc. There was time for study be- 
fore the first recitation for all those studiously dis- 
posed — which most of the corps had to be — and 


173 


then at 7.55 the bugle summoned one-half the en- 
tire battalion to recitation — the First Class to en- 
gineering, the Second to mechanics, the Third to 
analytical geometry, and the Fourth to algebra ; 
the highest sections in each reciting, as a rule, 
first hour, and the first hour at West Point meant 
just half an hour longer than it does anywhere 
else. The sections began recitation by 8.5, and 
were recalled by the bugle at 9.30, at which time 
the other half of the battalion was formed and 
marched, each section by its own marcher, to the 
rooms vacated by the upper half of the class. 

One word now about West Point recitations. 
The section-rooms were severity itself in their 
furniture, which consisted only of blackboards 
or slates on three sides of each room, two long 
benches, one on each side, a wooden desk and 
chair on a little wooden dais between the win- 
dows for the instructor. There used to be a 
stove in the centre, in case of mishap to the 
steam supply, and that was all, unless chalk, 
pointers, and erasers were counted. In soldierly 
silence the section marched to the door, hung 
their caps on pegs outside, went to their places, 
stood attention, facing inwards, while the march- 
er reported, “All are present, sir,” then took 
their seats. On the slate back of the instructor 
were written the page and paragraph to which 
next day’s lesson extended, and it was each ca- 


174 


det’s business to note it. No time was lost. The 
instructor, a lieutenant especially distinguished 
for scholarship while a cadet, called up his pu- 
pils one after another, giving to the first four 
demonstrations to work out on the front boards 
from the lesson of the day. The next four were 
sent to the side boards with problems on lead- 
ing points in the lesson of the previous day, 
and the ninth man “ jumped ” to the floor and 
was put through a cross-examination in some 
subject under discussion that was intended to 
thoroughly sound the depth of his knowledge. 
Each cadet on being called stepped to the centre 
of the floor, “stood attention,” facing the in- 
structor, received his enunciation, faced about, 
went to the board, wrote his name and the order 
in which he was called up (that is, first, second, 
or third) in the upper right-hand corner, then 
went to work. No communication of any kind 
was allowed. As soon as his work was finished 
the cadet faced about, stood at ease until called 
upon to recite, then, pointer in hand, he began : 
“I am required to discuss the Problem of the 
Lights,” or “ I am required to deduce a rule for 
such and such a purpose,” or, generally, whatso- 
ever his task might be. Then he proceeded in 
his own words to do it. 

All this time the instructor sat quietly listen- 
ing and mentally criticising. The whole idea of 


175 


the West Point system is that the reciting cadet 
becomes for the time being the instructor, en- 
deavoring to explain the subject to somebody 
who knows nothing at all of the matter. Then 
comes the instructor’s turn. If the recitation 
has been full, every point fairly, squarely met 
and covered, not a jot or tittle requiring further 
elucidation, the instructor generally says, “ Yery 
well, sir, that ’ll do,” and the young gentleman 
goes to his seat sure of a “ max.,” or “ 3,” on the 
weekly list. If the instructor has to ask a ques- 
tion or two in order to establish the pupil’s thor- 
ough knowledge, 2.9 or 2.8 may result; 2.5 is 
really a good mark ; 2 is fair ; 1.5 what would be 
called “ fair to middling ” on ’Change ; 1 is only 
tolerable, and zero a flat and utter failure, or its 
equivalent, a statement that the cadet doesn’t 
“ know enough about it to attempt a recita- 
tion.” Many a cadet has taken zero and a re- 
port for neglect of studies rather than make a 
bungling performance, but the instructors are 
ordinarily men of such mould that they soon get 
to gauge their pupils thoroughly, and instead of 
letting a young fellow doom himself to failure, 
they patiently question, “draw him out,” and 
there demonstrate that he knows not a little of 
the subject, and mark him accordingly. Kecita- 
tions go on every morning in the week, Sundays 
alone excepted. 


176 


The West-Pointer has only one half -holiday, 
and that Saturday afternoon, and then only 
those whose conduct has been up to the mark 
can enjoy it — confinement to quarters, or “ walk- 
ing punishment tour,” being the fate of many 
a boy regularly as the day comes round. And 
so by Saturday the cadet has recited five, or 
possibly six, times in the morning recitations, 
and on Monday the class reports are published, 
showing the exact standing in every study of 
every man in the corps. It is comical some- 
times at the start to see how the plebes attempt 
to work off the time -honored excuses of the 
school-boy. They are worthless at the Point. 
Even if he were really so ill he could not study, 
the cadet cannot be excused by the instructor. 
The young gentleman has to go to his first ser- 
geant at reveille, ask to have his name put on 
the sick-book ; then when sick-call sounds he is 
marched down to the hospital and states his 
case to the doctor, who can order him into hos- 
pital if the matter be at all serious, or prescribe 
some remedy, and mark him excused from first 
recitation, from drill, or whatever may be neces- 
sary. Now anywhere else that would mean 
“ excused from attending recitation,” but not at 
West Point. Unless actually in hospital and 
under medical care the cadet must go to the 
recitation - room with his class, there report to 


177 


the instructor, “ I am excused from reciting, sir.” 
The fact is noted on the record for the day, and, 
taking his seat, the cadet follows his comrades’ 
work as best he may. 

While one -half the corps is at recitation, the 
other half, each cadet in his own room, is re- 
quired to be at study; no visiting is allowed. 
At 11 the heavier recitations are over for the 
day. From this hour on the time given to each 
is only about fifty-five minutes in the section- 
room. At 12.55 the first drum beats for din- 
ner. All sections are then dismissed; books 
are hurriedly returned to rooms, and by 1.5, in 
solid ranks, the battalion is marching down to 
Grant Hall. From the time they get back to 
barracks — about 1.35 — until the bugle again 
sounds at 2, is release from quarters. At 2, 
recitations begin again. Law, languages, draw- 
ing, drill regulations, or something of that char- 
acter, take up the afternoon until 4, then all 
are marched (and it is march, march all the 
time) to barracks, where they have five minutes 
in which to get ready for afternoon drill. In 
September the school of the battalion is the pre- 
scribed exercise, followed by parade at sunset, 
these giving way in October, as the days become 
shorter, to artillery drills at the various batter- 
ies. Supper comes after parade, and evening 
“call to quarters;” study hour, thirty minutes 


178 


after the return of the battalion from supper. 
Study goes on until tattoo, which, when Pops 
was at the Point, was sounded at 9.30, followed 
by taps at 10. Each cadet was expected to 
make down his bedding for the night at tat- 
too, and to be in bed, undressed, and with his 
light extinguished when the drum sounded at 10 
o’clock. Officers of the First Class and cadet 
staff and first sergeants of the Second Class were 
the exceptions. These were permitted lights un- 
til 11, the cadet officers being assigned to duty 
all over barracks as inspectors of sub-divisions, 
each one having two floors, or eight rooms, un- 
der his control, and these he was to inspect at 
morning police call and at taps. 

What with turning out at 5 a.m. and study- 
ing, reciting, exercising in the gymnasium or on 
drill, the plebes, at least, were ready to go to bed 
at 9.30 ; some found it impossible to keep awake 
until then. 

Such being the general programme, let us see 
how it applied to Geordie and Frazier. The for- 
mer was fidelity itself in his desire to observe 
regulations and perform his duty. Benny, eager 
and enthusiastic at first, was rapidly developing 
traits that proved him to be just the reverse. 
Week and week about each became responsible 
for the condition of the room, his name being 
posted as orderly. They were in the subdivision 


179 


of Cadet Lieutenant Webb, the first officer to in- 
spect their room each day. Later came the in- 
spections made by the cadet officer of the day, 
and, almost invariably, morning and evening, a 
visit from Lieutenant Allen, the commandant 
of Company B (or “ the B Company tack,” as 
termed in the corps). If at any one of these in- 
spections anything was found amiss — chairs or 
broom, caps or accoutrements, washbowl or 
buckets or books out of place, dust on mantel or 
dirt on floor — the inspector never stopped to ask 
who was at fault ; he simply glanced at the or- 
derly-board to see who was responsible, and 
down went that gentleman on the delinquency 
book, and that meant — unless the report were 
removed — so many demerit and so much light 
punishment. 

Pops found no trouble in keeping himself and 
his room in order, but he couldn’t keep Benny. 
Before the 25th of September, “ Graham, order- 
ly,” had been reported four times for things he 
really could not help, and all due to Benny’s 
careless habits. Once it was washbowl not in- 
verted, another time broom out of place, and 
twice chairs out of place. Benny, the last one 
to use these items during his room-mate’s ab- 
sence, had left them as found by the inspector. 
Pops remonstrated, gently at first, but after- 
wards sternly, and Frazier either sulked or else 


180 


swore he left everything all right ; “ somebody 
must have come in and upset them.” 

This was bad enough, but worse was to follow. 
Before the end of the month, every Saturday 
evening at parade, the adjutant was busily read- 
ing “transfer orders,” principally in the Fourth 
Class. Fluent in recitation, Benny Frazier had 
made a brilliant start. This part of mathemat- 
ics he had been over time and again, and he was 
transferred to the first section at the first order. 
At the second order, along about the 20th, poor 
Geordie heard with heavy heart his own name 
read out for transfer, not up, but down. “ Ca- 
det Graham to the fourth section.” He had 
worked hard, very hard. He studied faithfully 
every possible moment, while Benny was list- 
lessly yawning, dozing, or scribbling. A few 
minutes conning over the familiar pages put 
him at his ease as to the lesson of the morrow, 
while Graham worked on with reddening eye- 
lids. Sometimes the latter would appeal to Fra- 
zier to explain points that were perplexing to 
him, and Benny at first seemed rather pleased 
to do so, but he was no patient instructor, and 
not especially gifted in the method of proving 
why this or that was thus and so. He thought 
Geordie ought to see it all at a glance. 

What with going up to the first section at a 
bound and believing himself on the high-road 



*1 WANT YOU TO COME AND WALK WITH ME/ CONNELL SAID 





































































1 
















181 


to the head of the class, coupled with the fact 
that now there was so very little time given to 
anything but recitation and study, Benny began 
to look upon himself as out of the shadow and 
into the sunshine of prosperity once more. Then 
came an order releasing Mr. Jennings from ar- 
rest. No case had been established. The court 
simply had to acquit him. The rifle affair was 
being forgotten in the press of other matters. 
“ Nothing succeeds like success.” Class-mates 
could not but admire Frazier’s fluency in reci- 
tation, and Graham, silent, reserved, studying 
day and night, was not the prominent figure 
in his class-mates’ eyes he had been in camp. 
Presently Benny’s manner, from having been 
meek and appealing, began to be patronizing 
and superior. Then as pride and confidence re- 
asserted themselves he began to chafe at any 
authority over him. The third week in bar- 
racks Frazier got four reports as room orderly ; 
the fourth week Pops’s name was hoisted to the 
top of the orderly-board, and he gravely told 
Benny he hoped he’d be careful. 

That very evening after supper Connell took 
Geordie’s arm and led him out on the Plain. 

“ I want you to come and walk with me, old 
man,” he said. “ You were going to your room 
to 6 bone,’ and I know it. Pops, don’t do that. 
What time we have to spend in the open air 


182 


you need to take for no other purpose. You’ll 
go to your work with a clearer head.” 

Geordie protested, but he knew Connell was 
right. Moreover, letters had come that very day 
from McCrea and the doctor, both bidding him 
feel no discouragement because he was making 
only an average of less than 2.5, “even if you 
do go down two or three sections,” wrote the 
lieutenant; “and I was scared badly because they 
sent me from the fifth down to the sixth, but I 
came out all right.” The doctor, too, urged that 
his boy take heart, and bade him neglect no reg- 
ular out-door exercise. A great believer in fresh 
air and sunshine was the doctor. Still, Pops 
was blue. Connell, a Western lad, with only the 
drilling of the public schools, had managed to 
cling to his place in the first section, and with 
every day was becoming more and more at home 
in the methods of the section-room. 

“ Doesn’t Frazier help you ?” he asked. 

“Not much. He’s generally busy reading, 
writing, or dozing, and he’s impatient of my 
stupidity, I suppose. Everything seems so easy 
to him,” answered Pops. 

“Yes, I never heard such finished recitations. 

‘ Old Scad ’ just sits there and nods approval, and 
seldom asks a question.” (“ Old Scad ” was the 
irreverent title given to a gray-headed lieuten- 
ant of artillery by a previous class, and plebes 


183 


rarely fail to adopt such nicknames.) “ Benny’s 
4 maxing ’ right along just now,” continued Con- 
nell. 

“Do you think he’ll be head of the class?” 
asked Pops. 

Connell pondered a moment before replying. 
“ He might, because he’s just as fluent in French ; 
but I’ll bet my hopes of graduation against the 
corporal chevrons you’re bound to wear next June 
that if he’s head in January he’ll never get there 
again.” 

“ Why, Con ? What do you mean ?” 

“ Simply this : Frazier is a sort of fireworks 
fellow. He’s going up with a flash and a roar, 
but he’ll burn out by the time we get into ana- 
lytical. He isn’t a stayer. Mr. Otis was tell- 
ing me last night that there were cases where 
fellows who stood head in the plebe January 
dropped out of sight by the end of the third 
year. As for Frazier, he’ll get found on demer- 
it if he isn’t careful. He’s smoking cigarettes 
again. Don’t let him light one in the room.” 

“ Oh, he doesn’t so long as I am there. Of 
course if I get reported as orderly for tobacco 
smoke in quarters he’ll be man enough to take it 
off my shoulders.” 

Connell was silent a moment, then he spoke : 
“I don’t want to wrong Frazier, but I’m in- 
clined to think that the less you build on his 


184 


doing the manly thing at his own expense the 
safer you’ll be.” 

And that evening, as Geordie returned to his 
room, all in a glow from the brisk walk, he found 
a party of plebes just breaking up and scattering 
to their quarters. Benny had been “ entertain- 
ing,” and the air was full of cigarette smoke. 
Vigorous fanning with the door and with tow- 
els swept much of the smoke out through the 
open window, but the aroma of the heavy, drug- 
scented cloud hovered over the occupants’ heads. 

“ You knew what would happen. How could 
you be so reckless of other fellows’ rights ?” said 
Graham, angrily. 

Benny flared up at once. He wasn’t going to 
forbid gentlemen smoking when they came to 
see him! There was no danger, anyhow ! They’d 
fan out the room before Allen could come, and 
by hard work they did. Mr. Allen looked queer, 
but said nothing. “Didn’t I tell you!” cried 
Benny. 

“ All the same,” answered Pops, “ there must 
be no more of it when I’m orderly.” 

“I’d like to know how you’ll stop it,” said 
Frazier, defiantly. “You won’t be so mean as 
to ‘ skin ’ a room-mate, and get ‘ cut ’ by the whole 
class for doing it, will you ?” 

Alas for Geordie ! Frazier’s penitence had been 
too short-lived, his escape from the toils in the 


185 


rifle case too easy, his triumph in French and 
mathematics too much for his selfish and shal- 
low nature. On his own account, Graham had 
not received a report for three weeks ; on Fra- 
zier’s he had received five, and these necessitated 
his writing explanations and wasting time, even 
though the reports were removed. But one even- 
ing, coming in just before call to quarters, he 
found half a dozen of his class-mates sitting with 
Frazier and sharing his cigarettes and applauding 
his stories. Even after the bugle blew, they loi- 
tered about going. Under the strict construction 
of the regulations of the academy it was his duty 
to order the smoking stopped at once, and to re- 
port every cadet engaged in it, but only the cadet 
officer of the day is “ on honor ” to report every 
breach of regulations coming under his notice. 
That night, in the midst of his frantic efforts to 
fan out the smoke, in came Lieutenant Allen. 
The next evening the report was read out, “ Gra- 
ham, orderly, tobacco smoke in quarters 7, 7.30 
p.m.” “ I’ve simply got to take the punishment,” 
said Geordie, “ because I did not stop it the in- 
stant I got in.” And when Connell and others 
took it upon themselves to tell Frazier he ought 
to go to the commandant and assume the respon- 
sibility, that young gentleman replied, “ You must 
be sick ! I was only one of the lot ; ’tisn’t as 
though I did it all alone.” 

13 


186 


But Foster was one of the party, and Duncan 
another. These two boys marched up to Colonel 
Hazzard two days later and declared themselves 
the smokers, and begged that Graham be re- 
lieved; but Graham, as ill-luck would have it, 
had already been sent for and asked what he 
had to say. 

“ Nothing, sir,” was his answer. 

“ If it occurred in your absence, Mr. Graham,” 
said the colonel, kindly, “and you did not see 
the smokers, or if you put a stop to it the mo- 
ment you did — ” 

But Geordie shook his head. And so for six 
consecutive Saturday afternoons, armed and 
equipped as a sentry, and thinking unutterable 
things as he did so, Geordie Graham tramped up 
and down the area of cadet barracks as punish- 
ment for having permitted smoking in quarters. 
It carried him, in punishment, almost up to 
Christmas ; but there was no lack of company. 
Some afternoons the area was crowded. 


CHAPTER XII 


October came and went. The Highlands were 
all aflame with the gorgeous hue of the autumn 
foliage. The mountain air was crisp and keen, 
full of exhilaration and life. Kegular hours, 
regulated exercise, sound sleep were all com- 
bining to bring about among the plebes the very 
“ pink of condition.” Letters from the far fron- 
tier, coming regularly, gave Geordie comfort and 
encouragement. Both his father and Mr. Mc- 
Crea bade him be of good cheer, and all would 
come well. He used to steal away to a quiet 
nook near Kosciusko’s Garden to read his moth- 
er’s loving missives in those days, for there was 
little peace for him at home. Benny was devel- 
oping a new trait with an old name — “ boning 
popularity,” it used to be called. The episode 
of the cigarettes had caused among all thinking 
members of the Fourth Class much unfavorable 
comment at Frazier’s expense, and he was quick 
to note the coldness and aversion. 

“ See here, Pops,” said he, “ if you think I 
ought to go and tell the commandant I was 
smoking, I’ll do it; but it isn’t going to help 


188 


you, that I can see. It’s all the fault of these 
brutal regulations, making you responsible be- 
cause you were too much of a gentleman to come 
in and order that smoking stopped in your room 
right off. If my confessing my part in it would 
remove your punishment, I’d do it quick as a cat 
can jump — but it couldn’t, so what’s the use ?” 

Graham shook his head, and Frazier magnified 
that into proportions which enabled him to say 
to many a class-mate, “ I offered to go and as- 
sume the whole responsibility provided I didn’t 
have to name the others, but Graham begged 
me not to do it.” 

And now, by way of retaining his hold on the 
class, Benny became a lavish entertainer. Many 
an evening he would invite certain of his cro- 
nies to come up after supper and “ bring the 
crowd,” as he expressed it. It meant that an- 
other instalment of luxuries had been received. 
It was an easy matter for his fond parents to 
send box after box of fruit, confectionery, or 
goodies of some kind to “ Mr. Peter Peterson,” 
at Highland Falls, and for “Mr. Peterson” to 
fetch them up the back road west of the ob- 
servatory, and down the hill behind the bar- 
racks, where, under cover of darkness, Benny 
and his chums could meet him and run the “ con- 
traband ” up to the room. Cadets were permitted 
to receive an occasional box from home, but not 


189 


in suck frequency, or without inspection by the 
officer in charge. And so while Pops and Con- 
nell and Ames, and other solid men of the class, 
were taking their evening stroll before study 
hour, Benny and his set were feasting and smok- 
ing in barracks, but smoking no more when 
Graham was orderly. 

“ I don’t mean to make any trouble about this 
case,” Pops had said, very quietly, “ but I give 
fair warning I will take no more demerit and 
punishment on other men’s account.” 

Benny confided to his fellows that Graham 
was a close-fisted, selfish Scotchy, as he ought 
to have had sense enough to know he would be. 
He was sorry he had chosen him as a tent and 
room mate, but he couldn’t leave him now, when 
Graham so needed his help in mathematics, and 
there were not a few who accepted his state- 
ment as both plausible and probable. Up in the 
first section, however, the keener minds were 
“getting on to Frazier,” as Connell expressed 
it, and along about the middle of November a 
thing occurred that set them all to thinking. 

By this time the class was hard at work in a 
more difficult and intricate part of the text, and 
the ground was not so familiar to the prize schol- 
ar of Beanton. Frazier had to study, and he 
didn’t like it. Up to this point his easy flow 
of language and his confident mien, coupled with 


190 


the thorough mathematical drilling he had had 
at home, had stood him in excellent stead. He 
was leading the class at an easy gait, and win- 
ning the highest mark without much effort. “ He 
can’t help being head in French, too,” said his 
friends, “but if he land anywhere in the 5’s, 
he’s sure of the head of the class.” But about 
this time Ames and Wheeler began to crowd 
him. They were “ maxing through,” while Ben- 
ny showed an occasional 2.9, 2.8, and once “ Old 
Scad” had actually had to cut off three-tenths 
from his mark. An admirable and patient in- 
structor, he had one or two defects, as have most 
men. He was a trifle deaf, and decidedly un- 
suspicious. An honorable gentleman himself, 
he was unprepared for the faintest deception in 
others. Twice had the section noted that when 
up on questions Frazier was taking advantage of 
this, for when asked in a tone which clearly in- 
dicated that the answer as heard or understood 
was an error, Benny had, in repeating the an- 
swer, changed his words accordingly. Connell, 
naming no names, asked Mr. Otis and Mr. Glenn 
if this were considered fair. “ Ho, sir ; emphati- 
cally no, sir,” was the reply. 

One Friday night, with a lesson for the morrow 
that was unusually intricate, Frazier sat chuck- 
ling over an amusing book he had smuggled into 
barracks, while Pops was painfully laboring at 


i 7 ll take no more demerit on other men's account 








191 


his slate. Next morning at breakfast some one 
asked Benny how he “ worked out the rule ” in 
a certain case, and Benny laughingly answered : 

“ I haven’t even looked at it yet.” 

“ Well, then, you’d better be doing it,” was the 
reply. 

Frazier had counted on the fact that for 
three days past he had been up at the front 
board on the lesson of the day, and that there 
was no possibility of its happening this Satur- 
day morning. If called up at all it would be on 
the work of the previous day. At any rate, after 
breakfast would be time enough. But so diffi- 
cult was the demonstration, that when he fell in 
with his section he had not been able to finish 
it. That day was signalized by many a “ cold 
fess ” in the lower sections ; but they were for- 
gotten in view of what happened in the first. 
Connell and Harris in succession had faced about 
with “ clean boards.” 

“ I can do anything else in the lesson, sir, but 
not that,” said the latter. 

But “ Scad,” was not appeased. “This ought 
not to occur in the first section,” he said. 
“ That ’ll do.” Then looking around, as though 
searching for some one to do justice to the sub- 
ject, his eye fell on Benny. “ Mr. Frazier, take 
that demonstration.” 

And with a cold chill darting up his legs Benny 


192 


went to the board. It was barely 8.30 ; there 
was no hope of stringing out his work so as to 
have it unfinished and unmarked when the bugle 
sounded. That might do in the fifth section, 
but not in the first. Keeping up his bold, con- 
fident manner, he chalked briskly away, but 
trusting — praying — something might happen to 
help him through. Ames, at the next board, 
was deep in his own problem — a long, intricate 
matter. Kine o’clock boomed from the old 
tower, and still these two leaders faced their 
boards and figured away. At last Benny could 
see that Ames had skilfully and perfectly solved 
his problem, and that in the natural order of 
things he would be called on to recite as soon as 
Benton finished. Then would come his turn, 
and for the life of him he could not remember 
an important equation, on which everything de- 
pended — he, Frazier, the cadet so confidently 
booked for the head of the class ! Then Benton 
began to stumble, and “ Old Scad ” went over to 
the board to explain. Ames finished his work, 
laid aside his chalk, dusted his fingers, gave a 
downward pull to his coat and an upward hitch 
to his trousers, picked up the pointer, and was 
about turning, when Frazier’s hand touched his 
sleeve. On the board before him Benny had 
chalked as much of the needed equation as he 
remembered, followed by an interrogation mark. 


193 


An appealing glance told what was wanted* 
Ames glanced anxiously about him, hesitated, 
colored, then impatiently took up the chalk, and 
while Scad’s broad blue back was turned, rapidly 
wrote the missing links. Frazier copied, nodded 
gratefully, and went on. The claimant for the 
head of the class had sought and obtained and 
availed himself of the assistance of a rival. Scad 
neither saw nor suspected. The entrance of the 
professor of mathematics, making the rounds of 
his class, led to an exhaustive explanation of 
some difficult points in the day’s lesson. Then 
Ames began reciting on his problem, and before 
he finished the bugle recall came ringing through 
the corridors. 

“ That ’ll do, Mr. Ames ; that ’ll do, Mr. Fra- 
zier. Section’s dismissed !” said Scad ; and Ben- 
ny was saved. 

“ It may do in the fifth section, by gum ! but 
never in the first,” said Wheeler and others that 
evening. “ If Frazier comes out head, it’s fraud, 
and nothing less.” 

But Benny held that as he didn’t recite it 
made no difference. Yet when Monday came it 
was found that he had been marked 3 for the 
work which, had he been cross-examined, he 
could have explained only partially, on which 
but for Ames’s aid he would have failed disas- 
trously. Frazier’s mark for the week was higher 


194 


than that of the class-mate at whose expense 
and personal risk Benny was saved. 

“ I’d rather be the foot of the class with your 
reputation, Pops, than head of the corps with 
Frazier’s,” said Connell, hotly, for Geordie was 
low in his mind. He had been given a hard 
demonstration that very morning, had failed, 
and now was fearful of going down another 
section. 

And now, except weekly inspection and occa- 
sional guard duty, there were no formations 
under arms. Drills were discontinued. Study 
hours were longer. So were the lessons. The 
snow-flurries became frequent. The dark, dreary 
winter days were upon them. Geordie took 
his regular exercise, and was beginning to be 
looked upon as one of the likeliest athletes in 
the class. The gymnasium of those days was 
a primitive affair, but the instructor knew his 
business, and taught it. All the plebes began to 
look forward with eagerness or apprehension to 
the midwinter turning-point — the January ex- 
amination. Once more, finding himself losing 
ground with his class, Benny was devoting him- 
self to Pops. There is nothing more ephemeral 
than popularity, and no place were it counts for 
so little as West Point. Plebe leaders and idols 
sometimes hold their sway beyond the winter 
solstice, but rarely last till June. Then, little 


195 


by little, men who were hardly noticed at the 
start begin to come forging to the front with 
the backing of solid respect, and these are the 
“stayers.” When December came many a plebe 
had far more jovial greeting for Benny than for 
his grave, reticent room-mate. But the “ solid 
men ” of the class — fellows like Ames and Con- 
nell, Benton and Ladd and Wheeler — sought the 
latter more and more with each succeeding day. 

At last came the January examination. Geor- 
die had been holding his own at moderate aver- 
age marks for nearly a month, and knew that he 
was reasonably safe. Still, a bungling perform- 
ance would be sure to throw him far down in the 
class, even though it did not throw him entirely 
out. He had been faithful, steadfast, systematic, 
and his honest work was beginning to tell. There 
was mad excitement in the class over the publi- 
cation of the rolls. The result as to the head of 
the class was a foregone conclusion. Warned 
by his narrow escape in November, Frazier had 
“ turned to” and really studied for several weeks, 
during which time his performance was brilliant, 
and even those of his class-mates who neither 
trusted nor respected him were forced to admit 
that, so long as he chose to work and leave noth- 
ing to chance, he could take the lead and keep 
it. “But wait till next year, and he’s beyond 
his depth in calculus,” said upper class men. 


196 


One clear, cold evening in January Mr. Glenn’s 
voice was taxed to the utmost. For nearly forty 
minutes, with the long line of motionless gray 
overcoats for an audience, he read through sheet 
after sheet, page after page, of class standing in 
all manner of subjects. Our interests are only 
with the plebes. Despite lapses in discipline, 
Cadet Frazier led the Fourth Class in general 
standing. Some eighteen young fellows at the 
opposite end were declared deficient and dis- 
charged, and Geordie Graham found himself No. 
38 out of 79 examined and passed. It was really 
better than he had hoped. 

Then began the long pull for June. Each day 
the sun rose earlier and stayed up longer. Geordie 
plodded on at his books steadily as ever, cheered 
by the glad letters from home, and taking com- 
fort in the growing friendship of such fellows as 
Connell and Ames. Benny, elated with easy vic- 
tory, had relapsed into his careless, defiant ways. 
Reports were frequent ; explanations ditto. Ru- 
mors of allegations against reporting officers and 
assertions of innocence on Frazier’s part “more 
ingenious than ingenuous ” were again afloat. By 
the time March was ushered in his array of de- 
merit, despite his explanations, was such that 
Geordie felt concerned, and gravely remonstrat- 
ed. Frazier, ever intolerant of advice from any- 
body, resented Pops’s interference. “ It’s all the 


197 


fault of such outrageous rules and spying offi- 
cers,” said he. Already the plebes were eagerly 
canvassing the prospects for chevrons in June. 
Eumors of all kinds were afloat. The faintest 
hint dropped from the lips of such magnates as 
the cadet captains or adjutant went from mouth 
to mouth like wildfire, growing as they flew. 
“ Connell, Forbes, Ames, and Pops were sure of 
chevrons,” said the boys. Indeed, Pops was get- 
ting rid of that part of his name now, and being 
jocularly hailed on all sides as “ corporal ” ; but 
the finest officer of the Beanton Battalion was 
not so much as mentioned in cadet prophecies. 
Of course, they might have to make the head of 
the class something, but he had a good many 
demerit, and, what was more, was by no means 
certain of the head of the class again. He made 
beautiful figures in geometry and trigonometry 
and beautiful translations in French. He was 
“ way up ” in conversation, but he slipped occa- 
sionally in conjugation and grammar. The most 
fluent and easy speaker of the French tongue, 
Benny’s mark was already lower than those of 
two young gentlemen who had never been abroad 
at all. 

Then came another matter that showed the 
drift of public sentiment. A time -honored cus- 
tom was the election of hop managers for the 
coming summer. There were to be nine from 


198 


the new First Class and six from theirs, and can- 
vassing was already lively. Benny renewed his 
hospitalities, and sought to extend the circle of 
his guests, for of the former lot no less than six 
had been among the victims discharged. He be- 
gan showing attention to many a class-mate hith- 
erto unnoticed. He had a confidential, caressing 
way of twining his arm around the boy he de- 
sired to win over as they walked off together, 
and all his arts were put in play. 

The election was scheduled for the 15th of 
March, and despite the wintry and blustering 
weather the Hon. Mr. Frazier and his accom- 
plished wife came from Beanton, bringing with 
them two very pretty cousins of Benny’s, really 
charming girls, and Benny marshalled his class- 
mates up to the hotel to see them on Saturday 
and Sunday, Pops blushing like a rose when Mrs. 
Frazier took his hand and said how glad she was 
to know the soldierly room-mate of whom her 
dear boy had told her so much. Doubtless the 
fond mother thought how very fortunate Geor- 
die was in being Benny’s friend. 

Altogether the little visit was a big success. 
Despite the open refusal of many to vote for Fra- 
zier, it was held that a young man with his social 
advantages could not fail to reflect credit upon 
the class. Enough ballots, therefore, were cast to 
barely squeeze him through, the lowest of the six. 


199 


“ I’m sorry they didn’t name you as one of 
them, corporal,” he said ; “ but I suppose you fel- 
lows from the frontier don’t go much on society.” 

And, as usual, Pops quietly grinned without 
making any reply, and, election over, Benny soon 
fell back into his old ways. 

We must jump now to June. All through 
May Benny had been “ bracing up for corporal- 
ship,” for he could not but note how utterly his 
claims were ignored by his own class-mates, while 
Pops kept on in the same steadfast line of duty, 
always prompt and alert, but silent ; so reticent, 
in fact, and so halting at times in recitations, that 
he was looked upon by his instructors as slow. 
Delightedly the whole corps doffed the sombre 
gray and donned the white trousers on the 1st 
of June. Beview and reception of the Board of 
Visitors went off in the usual finished style. The 
examinations of the graduating and furlough 
classes were rushed swiftly yet searchingly to 
their close, the Fourth Class sections being taken 
up rapidly, and disposed of in the same cold- 
blooded, business-like style, and then, one glorious 
J une morning, the whole corps marched as escort 
to the graduates to the front of the library, where 
the diplomas were presented with much cere- 
mony and congratulation. Then back to the 
front of barracks they tramped and re-formed 


200 


line, and Glenn’s voice rang out the last order 
he was destined to read as adjutant of the corps 
of cadets. All appointments hitherto existing 
in the battalion were annulled, and the following 
announced in their stead : To be captains, cadets 
so and so (Pops’s first sergeant among them). To 
be adjutant, Cadet Blank. Then a list of lieuten- 
ants, another of sergeants, and then, to the thrill- 
ing interest of Geordie and his class-mates, now 
become full-fledged yearlings, the list of corpo- 
rals. Cadets Benton, Wright, Ames, and Connell, 
the first four; Harry Winn, eighth, Graham some- 
where below the middle ; Benny Frazier nowhere. 
The January head of the class was unplaced on 
the soldier list, and three days later was officially 
announced to have fallen from first to fourth in 
general standing. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Yearling camp at last ! The battalion was re- 
organized in order to equalize the four companies. 
The graduates and furlough-men— the latter their 
tormentors of the previous year — were gone, and 
Pops wrote to his father and McCrea that the 
hardest thing he had had yet to do was to say 
farewell to Glenn and Rand and his own cap- 
tain, Leonard — the three First Class officers whom 
he and the plebes generally so greatly admired. 
Otis, too, was another with whom he found it 
hard to part. He didn’t know how good a friend 
he had in him until after he was gone. Then an 
odd thing happened. 

The furlough-men’s turn came next, and hilari- 
ously they were rushing about the area, shaking 
hands right and left with the objects of their 
annoying attentions of the year before. Benny 
Frazier was loudly and conspicuously fraternizing 
with every older cadet, including a number whom 
he was wont to declare nothing on earth would 
ever induce him to speak to. Pops and Connell, 
shyly conscious of the glisten and glory of their 
new chevrons, were standing a little apart at the 


202 


steps of the third division, waiting for the dinner* 
drum to beat, when Connell, for the first time, as 
senior non-commissioned officer present for duty, 
was to form the company, Pops assisting as a file- 
closer. The two fast friends had been designated 
as acting first and third sergeants respectively. 
Suddenly Woods, with two of his class-mates, in 
their “ spick-and-span ” civilian garb, came bust- 
ling by. The others stopped short to congratu- 
late the pair on their chevrons and to add a friend- 
ly word or two, and then, to Geordie’s surprise, 
Woods looked him straight in the eye : “ Gra- 
ham, I want to say before I go that I am heartily 
sorry for my part in our quarrel of last summer, 
and that you behaved perfectly right. Won’t 
you shake hands ?” And in an instant there was 
cordial hand -clasp, and with a dozen yearlings 
and furlough-men intermingled about them, there 
was a general “shake” all round, and patting of 
one another on the back, and Woods went off 
happier for the consciousness that at last he had 
done the manly and chivalrous thing he should 
have done long before. Otis and Leonard had 
told him as much, and down in the bottom of 
his heart he knew they were right. Only it’s so 
hard a thing to do. Not that a gentleman, boy 
or man, will shrink from begging the forgiveness 
of one whom he has injured, but because there 
are always so many, boys and men both, who are 


203 


not gentlemen, to sneer at what they term the 
“ back-down.” 

And so there were here. Mr. Jennings, cadet 
private, Company A, of the furlough class, but 
kept back a few days on account of an accumu- 
lation of demerit, and said to be in danger of de- 
ficiency in mathematics, was very loud in his con- 
demnation of the proceedings, now that Woods 
and most of the class were gone, and there was 
no Glenn to overawe him. The new First Class 
officers did not like Jennings, but did not know 
him as thoroughly as did their predecessors. 
Frazier, however, was the only member of the 
new yearling class who w-as at all sarcastic about 
the reconciliation ; but Benny was in bitter mood 
just now. Few of the departing cadets, gradu- 
ates or leave men, had troubled themselves to 
say a cordial word to him. Few of his class- 
mates had expressed regret at his having fallen 
from the head of the class, and fewer still at his 
failure to win chevrons. No boy at the Point 
marched into camp that lovely June morning 
with such a jealous demon of disappointment 
gnawing at his heart as did Benny Frazier. It 
boded ill for himself, for his friends, and for any 
new cadets who fell into his clutches ; for the 
boy who so loudly and persistently announced 
the year before that nothing on earth could in- 
duce him to say or do a thing to worry a Fourth 


204 


Class man was become the very terror of the 
plebes. 

For two weeks, of course, the opportunities 
were few. The new First and Third classes were 
sent into camp as the new-comers arrived and 
were brought before their examiners. The even- 
ing the order was given to pack up and store in 
the trunk-rooms everything not to be taken to 
camp Pops was busily at work, while Benny, be- 
ing room orderly, and solely responsible, was 
smoking cigarette after cigarette, and “ chaffing 
the corporal,” as he called it. There came a 
sudden knock at the door; Benny hurled the 
stump into a corner, and sprang to the middle of 
the floor aghast. Such a thing as inspection the 
last night in barracks had not occurred to him 
as a possibility, and this time he, not Pops, 
would have to bear the punishment. He was 
trembling with excitement and fear, when a 
drum -boy orderly poked in his head and said 
Mr. Graham was wanted at the commandant’s 
office at once. Instantly Benny broke forth in 
angry abuse of the drummer, whom he accused 
of purposely imitating an officer’s knock, and 
threatened him with all manner of vengeance. 
The drum-boy, instead of being abashed, looked 
Mr. Frazier straight in the face, and replied : 

“You will kick me down -stairs, will you? 
You try it if you want to get kicked out of the 


205 


corps of cadets. I’m not to be abused by the 
likes of you.” 

And Pops, amazed at such language from a 
drummer to a cadet, even though Frazier had 
provoked it, was still more amazed at the sud- 
den change that shot over his room-mate’s quiv- 
ering face. Geordie took the drum-boy by the 
shoulder and put him promptly out into the 
hall. 

“ You know better than to speak to a cadet in 
that way,” he said, quietly, but sternly. “Go 
back to the guard -house.” But the boy replied 
he had another message to deliver. 

“ I don’t speak that way to any other gentle- 
man in the corps,” said he, “ but I can’t stand 
that fellow, neither can any of us, and you 
couldn’t either if you knew what we know.” 

But here Geordie ordered silence, and telling 
the boy to go about his business and keep away 
from Frazier, he hurried down -stairs. At the 
office were the commandant and Lieutenant 
Allen, also the new cadet captain of Company 
B, their first sergeant of the previous year. 
Presently Winn and Crandal— Graham’s class- 
mates— arrived, and the four cadets were called 
in. It was fifteen minutes thereafter when Geor- 
die returned to his room, his heart beating high 
with pride and happiness. He had forgotten 
for the moment the episode of the drummer- 


boy. He went bounding up to the top flight, 
four steps to the jump, burst in at the door just 
as the orderly came backing out, stowing some- 
thing in his pocket. Frazier, still pale and with 
a deep line between his gloomy eyes, nervous- 
ly thrust some money between the leaves of a 
book. Geordie plainly saw it. “ I told you not 
to return here,” said he, sternly, to the boy. 

“I called him in, Graham,” interposed Fra- 
zier. “ He — he had to apologize for his words, 
or — get into trouble.” 

But the look on the drummer’s face was not 
that of dejection as he vanished, and Graham, 
without a word, began unpacking. Frazier light- 
ed a cigarette and retired to his alcove. For fif- 
teen minutes not a word was exchanged, then, 
as Graham opened the door, and loaded up with 
a bundle of bedding and clothing, Frazier spoke : 

“ Where are you going with that truck now? 
You’ve got to take it over to camp in the morn- 
ing.” 

“ I’m not going to camp,” said Geordie, slow- 
ly — “ at least, not now. And, Frazier,” continued 
he, laying down his bundle, “ I’ve not yet said 
one word to anybody but yourself about this. 
I’ve told you twice that our ways were so differ- 
ent that we did not get along as we should as 
tent or room mates, so if you want to take any- 
body else, do so. It ’ll be some time before I 


207 


come into camp, and then I shall slip into any 
vacancy that there may be. To be perfectly 
frank, I cannot afford the demerit it costs me 
to live with you, and — I don’t like cigarette 
smoke.” 

“ Any more than you do me, I suppose,” drawl- 
ed Frazier, interrupting. “Now that you’ve got 
your chevrons, and passed to the Third Class, 
you’ve no further use for the fellow that helped 
you to both.” 

Graham colored. It was so utterly false and 
unjust. 

“ I’ve no word to say against you, Frazier, and 
you know it. I am obliged to you for what help 
you gave me, but I don’t think I owe either my 
chevrons or my gain in standing to you.” 

“ Oh, you’ve had this thing all cut and dried 
for weeks,” said Benny, sneering. “You’re simply 
moving over into Connell’s room as a prelimi- 
nary to moving into camp with him, leaving me 
to find a tent-mate at the last moment.” 

“ I am not going to Connell’s. I am not going 
to camp. I told you so,” said Geordie, gulping 
down his wrath, and speaking — as he had seen 
McCrea, when he was very angry — slowly and 
deliberately. 

“ Where, then ? Where are you going to ? 
Surely” — and here a sudden light dawned on 
Benny — “ surely you’ve not been turned out 


208 


over plebes. You are? You f Well, may I 
be blessed ! Listen to this, fellows,” he cried, 
rushing across the hall, raging within himself 
with envy, baffled hope and ambition, bitter jeal- 
ousy and remorse, all intermingled — “ listen to 
this : Corporal Pops turned out over plebes !” 

“Well, why not?” answered the yearling ad- 
dressed ; while his room-mate coolly demanded : 

“What is there that seems ridiculous to you in 
that, Frazier?” And he, too, went in to con- 
gratulate Graham, while Benny dashed miser- 
ably down -stairs in search of some one to sym- 
pathize with him, and some one to whom to tell 
the story of Graham’s treachery. 

“ Upbraided Pops for going back on him about 
the tent, did he ?” said Benton after tattoo that 
night. “Well, the moment it was known, five 
days ago, that I was to act as sergeant - major 
this summer, Frazier came to ask me to choose 
him for a tent-mate and battalion clerk. He can 
make out a prettier set of papers than any man in 
the class, but I’d rather do all the work myself, 
and any fellow can tell him so that likes to.” 

And so for two weeks after the battalion went 
into camp Pops remained on duty at the men- 
agerie, proud and happy in the trust reposed in 
him. He was the junior of the corporals de- 
tailed for this important and onerous duty. 
Under the supervision of Lieutenant Allen and 


ON SPECIAL DUTY OVER PLEBES 











4 
















4 



















209 


the command of Cadet Captain Rice, these 
young corporals, who but a year ago were 
undergoing their own initiation, were become 
the instructors and disciplinarians of the new- 
comers, as well as their defenders against year- 
ling depredations. 

To Pops the duty meant ceaseless vigilance in 
two ways — against his class-mates on the one 
hand, against himself on the other. He was a be- 
liever in the better results to be obtained from 
a firm, sustained, and dignified system of instruc- 
tion, as opposed to the more snappy and emphat- 
ic methods that had long been the accepted thing 
among yearling drill-masters. The latter might 
be more efficacious where drills were few and the 
squads careless or slouchy ; but when drilling 
three times a day, and drilling boys eager to 
learn and trying to do their best, Pops had views 
of his own. At first their duties were to assist 
and supervise their class-mates detailed as squad 
instructors, but time and again Geordie found 
that a few quiet words from him, accompanied 
by an illustration of the soldierly execution of 
the required motion, had far more effect than 
the scolding of his comrades. Presently the 
squads were consolidated. Then came the event- 
ful day of their march to camp and distribution 
to companies. The night before this happened 
Lieutenant Allen took occasion to compliment 


210 


the cadet captain on his vigilance and manage* 
ment. “ And what’s more, sir, you were right 
about Mr. Graham. Both the colonel and I 
thought him slow and perhaps lacking in force, 
but he has done admirably.” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Rice, a and I believe 
he will be just as efficient in the battalion.” 

Once in camp, of course, the yearlings not 
on duty over plebes took every opportunity to 
play the customary tricks and enforce the usual 
“ taking down” process. Balked in their earlier 
efforts, a gang led by Frazier became conspicuous 
in every scheme to humiliate and annoy. The 
boy who was most petulant and persistent in his 
complaints of the brutality of yearling language 
the year before was loudest and most annoying 
now, as well as the most relentless taskmaster. 
He was occupying a “ yearling den,” the second 
tent from the color-line, with two equally reck- 
less fellows as mates, while Connell, occupying 
the first sergeant’s tent at the east end of the 
company street, had saved a place for Geordie, 
who, though continued on special duty over 
plebes, now slept in his own company. Frazier 
had made some scoffing salutation as Pops came 
wheeling in his barrow -load of bedding, but 
Grahan* paid no heed. The relations of the pre- 
vious year were practically at an end. 

For the first three or four nights such was the 


211 


vigilance of the officers that little active disturb- 
ance of the plebes occurred ; but at all hours 
of the day and evening, when the boys were not 
in ranks or on duty, hazing in some form or 
other was going on. The hops had begun. The 
post was filling up with visitors. Many of the 
corps had friends and relatives at the hotels or 
among the families on the post. Benny, a beau- 
tiful dancer, and bright, chatty fellow, was bask- 
ing in the sunshine of his social triumphs out- 
side of camp and revelling in mischief within. 
By the 8th of July Graham had a squad of thirty 
plebes to drill and perfect in the manual, and 
keen was the rivalry between his boys and Cran- 
dal’s. Geordie had won the respect and was 
rapidly winning the enthusiastic regard of his 
recruits. Crandal, far sharper in his manner, was 
“ much more military,” as most of the yearlings 
said, but the officers held different views. Both 
Winn and Crandal ranked Geordie, as has been 
stated; yet the Kentuckian, after watching Pops’s 
methods while his own squad was resting, did 
not hesitate to say, “ He holds right over us ; 
we’re not in it with him as a drill-master ” — a 
statement which Crandal, however, could not for 
a moment indorse. 

On the 10th of July every man of Geordie’s 
squad was in the battalion, yet forty remained 
who were declared not yet proficient. Some were 


212 


Winn’s, some Crandal’s, some were the back* 
sliders from smaller squads, but Winn was re- 
lieved, and sent back to the battalion to act as 
color -bearer, and only Crandal and Pops were 
left. Four days later Mr. Crandal was returned 
to his company. “ Made too much noise,” said 
Lieutenant Allen, in explaining it afterwards, 
and Pops was left in sole charge of the back- 
ward plebes. Within the week Colonel Hazzard, 
after critical watching for a day or two, said to 
Geordie, in the hearing of the sentry on Num- 
ber Five : “ That is excellent work, Mr. Graham. 
You deserve great credit, sir.” And the sentry 
on Number Five was Benny Frazier, who listened 
with jealous and angry heart. 

Two days later, all plebes being now regularly 
in the battalion, Geordie was returned to duty 
with Company B, and the next day marched on 
guard as junior corporal. He had heard of the 
arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Frazier with their girl 
friends the previous evening; and just before pa- 
rade, among the throng of arriving guests, as 
Geordie was returning from the post of the sen- 
try on Number Two, he came suddenly upon the 
party close to the visitors’ tent. Throwing his 
rifle into the other hand, Geordie lifted his shako 
in courteous salutation. Mr. Frazier senior, walk- 
ing with Cadet Warren, made a flourishing bow, 
and in stately dignity said : 


213 


“ Good-eve ning, Mr. Graham : I hope you are 
well, sir,” but passed quickly on. Mrs. Frazier’s 
bow and the bows of the younger ladies were 
cold and formal. A lump rose in Geordie’s 
throat. He hated to be misjudged. 

“ It’s all Benny boy’s doings,” said Connell, 
angrily, when he learned of the occurrence that 
night. “That young prodigy is a well-bred, 
sweet-mannered cad.” 

It seems, too, that the Honorable Mr. Frazier 
adopted the same magnificent manner to the sen- 
ior officers whom he chanced to meet. To them, 
to whom he could not say too much of Benny’s 
gifts a year gone by, he now spoke only in the 
most formal and ceremonious way. To certain 
of the younger graduates, however, he confided 
his sense of the affront put upon him personally 
by the omission of the name of his son and heir 
(“ The finest soldier of the lot, sir, as any com- 
petent and unprejudiced officer will tell you”) 
from the list of corporals. 

But if the disappointed old gentleman would 
no longer recognize the superintendent and com- 
mandant as men worthy his esteem, he was show- 
ing odd interest in the humbler grades. Lieuten- 
ant Allen, trotting in one evening from a ride 
through the mountains, came suddenly upon two 
dim figures just outside the north gate. One, a 
drummer-boy, darted down the hill towards the 


214 


engineer barracks; the other, tall and portly, 
turned his back and walked with much dignity 
away. 

“What’s old man Frazier hobnobbing with 
drum-boys for ?” said he to Lieutenant Breeze at 
the mess that evening, at which query the bright 
eyes of Lieutenant Breeze blazed with added in- 
terest. 

“ I wish I could find out,” said he. 


CHAPTER XIV 


August came, and the Fraziers went, promise 
mg to return for the 28th. Once more all the 
influences that a mother’s love can devise had 
been brought to bear on those members of Ben- 
ny’s class whose friendship he either claimed or 
desired. Connell had been besieged with smiles, 
and would have been overwhelmed with atten- 
tions but for his sturdy determination “not to 
be bought.” Then came open rupture. As first 
sergeant he had rebuked Frazier for falling in 
with belts disarranged at parade, and attempting 
to adjust them in ranks. Benny was piling up 
demerit, and yet taking every possible liberty, 
and doing a good deal of angry talking behind 
Connell’s back when reported. This time Con- 
nell left his place in front of the centre and 
walked down opposite his class-mate. 

“ Fall out, Frazier. You know perfectly well 
you have no business in ranks in that shape. Fall 
out, and fix your belts.” And Frazier, scowling 
and muttering sulkily, obeyed. Connell over- 
heard something that sounded very like “put- 
ting on too many airs; boning military at a 


216 


class-mate’s expense,” as he started back to his 
post, and whirled about, quick as a cat. 

“ Class-mate or no class-mate, you cannot ap- 
pear in ranks of this company in that shape, and 
I want no words about it,” he said. Then as 
Benny, hanging his head and refusing to meet 
his eyes, bunglingly fastened his belt, Connell 
went on to the right of the company. They 
were standing at ease by this time, and as soon 
as Connell was well out of hearing, Frazier again 
began : 

“ You’re taking advantage of your size, 
that’s what you’re doing, Mr. Connell; and 
you wouldn’t dare to speak to me in that tone 
if you weren't altogether too big for me to 
tackle.” 

Geordie heard this. He could not help hear- 
ing it, but before he could warn Benny to say 
no more of that, the cadet captain called the 
company to attention, and began his inspection. 
That night, after tattoo, Connell said to Geor- 
die : 

“I hear that Frazier declared I was taking 
advantage of my size. Did you hear it ?” And 
Pops refused to answer. 

“I don’t mean to see any more trouble be- 
tween you and Benny if I can help it, Con,” 
said he. “He’s making an ass of himself, but 
there sha’n’t be any row if I can prevent it.” 


217 


But Pops couldn’t prevent it. Connell went 
wrathfully in search of Benny, charged him with 
what had been said, and demanded that he either 
affirm or deny it, and Benny could not deny; 
there were altogether too many witnesses. 

“ I am too heavy to take advantage of you in 
any way,” said Connell, as soon as he could con- 
trol his temper sufficiently, “ but in the whole 
class or the whole corps I challenge you to find 
one man who will say I have imposed in the 
faintest degree upon you. If you can, I’ll beg your 
pardon ; if not, by Jupiter, you must beg mine !” 

So far from finding any one to agree with 
him, for even his tent-mates had to admit they 
thought he deserved all he got, and was lucky in 
not being reported for muttering when spoken 
to on duty — a report which carried heavy pun- 
ishment — Benny ran foul of a Tartar. Little 
Brooks, who was slighter and shorter than him- 
self, fired up when Frazier appealed to him, and 
said : “ Connell was perfectly right, and you were 
utterly wrong. You’ve been wrong all along 
ever since we came in camp. You’ve imposed 
on him in every way you dared, and simply 
forced him to 4 skin ’ you, or else stand convicted 
of showing you partiality. That’s my opinion, 
since you ask it ; and if I were in Connell’s place 
you’d eat your words or fight — one of the two.” 

This was a stunner, as Winn put it. Benny 

IS 


218 


now had no recourse but to challenge Brooks, 
as, indeed, Benny himself well knew. It was 
either that or a case of being “ sent to Coventry.” 

“ My parents are here, as you very probably 
considered when you made your remarks, Mr. 
Brooks,” said he, magnificently. “ I do not wish 
to fight while they’re here. They go on Satur- 
day, and then we can settle this.” 

“Any time you please, only don’t wait too 
long,” was Brooks’s reply. 

But they didn’t go Saturday. They stayed 
several days longer. Meantime Frazier accused 
Geordie of having reported his language to Con- 
nell. He also told his mother of this new act of 
meanness on Graham’s part. Mrs. Frazier could 
not understand such base ingratitude. If that 
was the result of being brought up in the army, 
she hoped her boy would quit the service as soon 
as possible after graduation. Frazier apologized 
to Connell with very bad grace. But while that 
ended hostilities, so far as they were concerned, 
Connell told him in plain words that he owed 
still another apology. “ You have given your 
relations to understand,” he said, “that it was 
Graham who reported your language to me. It 
was Graham who refused to do it.” All the 
same, Benny did not take the trouble to undo 
the wrong he had done, and set Geordie right 
with his mother and friends. 


219 


The Fraziers were gone by the first week in 
August, however, and then Benny had a disor- 
dered stomach of some kind, and Dr. Brett ex- 
cused him two days, but sent him about his 
business on the third, saying there was nothing 
on earth the matter with him but eating too 
much pastry and smoking cigarettes. Then Ben- 
ny had several confinements to serve, and sent 
word to Mr. Brooks, who was waxing impatient, 
that there’d be time enough after he got out of 
confinement and could go to Fort Clinton. Brooks 
replied that if it would be any accommodation 
he’d cut supper that evening, and they could 
“ have it out ” in the company street when camp 
was deserted, but Frazier declined. By the sec- 
ond week in August the boy found he was con- 
sidered a shirk, and in order to prove his willing- 
ness to fight he carried his bullying of a shy, 
silent, lanky plebe to a point the poor fellow 
couldn’t stand. He was taller than Frazier, but 
had not the advantage of the year’s gymnastic 
training, and Benny won an easy victory, but 
only over the plebe. It was evident his class- 
mates were still shy of him. 

Then he came to Geordie and asked him to 
be his second, and carry his challenge to Brooks. 
He wanted the indorsement that such seconding 
would carry, but Geordie refused. 

“ Why not ?” asked Benny, hotly. 


220 


“ For two reasons. First, because I agree with 
Brooks ; and second, because you have no right 
whatever to ask me to second you.” 

Benny went off, aflame with indignation, to re- 
port Graham’s monstrous conduct. Some of the 
class said Geordie was entirely right ; others re- 
plied that there were plenty to second him even 
if Pops wouldn’t, and at last poor Benny found 
there was no help for it. He had to meet that 
fierce little C Company bantam, and he did ; but 
the fight wasn’t worth telling about. Benny 
couldn’t be coaxed to get up after the second 
knock-down. He was scientifically hammered 
for about thirty seconds, and that was quite 
enough. He was so meek for a few days there- 
after that even the plebes laughed. 

And now the foolish boy decided it due to his 
dignity to “cut Graham cold,” which means to 
refuse to speak to or recognize a fellow-cadet at 
all — a matter that hardly helped him in his class, 
and this was the state of affairs between them 
until the end of camp. 

Geordie really felt it more than he showed. 
He hated to be misjudged, yet was too proud to 
require any further words. Between him and 
Connell, Ames, Winn, Benton, Kogers, and men 
of that stamp in the class the bonds of friend- 
ship were constantly strengthening. B Company 
kept up a good name for discipline during camp, 


221 


thanks to Connell’s thoroughly soldierly work as 
first sergeant, and the cadet captain’s even-tem- 
pered methods. Geordie, as third sergeant, had 
few occasions to assert his authority or come in 
unpleasant contact with upper-class men serving 
as privates. He was content, hopeful, happy. He 
spent one or two evenings looking on at the hops, 
but the more he looked the more boyish his class- 
mates appeared as contrasted with the cavaliers 
he had been accustomed to watch at Fort Reyn- 
olds; so he and Connell preferred listening to 
the music from a distance. On Saturdays they 
clambered over the glorious heights that sur- 
rounded them, made long explorations among the 
mountains, and had many a splendid swim in the 
Hudson. They kept up their dancing-lessons “ for 
First Class camp,” as they said, and to that they 
were already looking forward. 

At last came the rush of visitors for the clos- 
ing week in camp, the return of the pallid-faced 
furlough -men, the surrender of their offices to 
the bona fide sergeants, and Geordie and Connell 
found themselves shoulder to shoulder in the 
front rank on the right of Company B. Three 
days later, and with the September sunshine 
pouring in their window on the south side of 
barracks, the two corporals were room-mates at 
last. Connell being already hailed among his 
class-mates as “Badger,” in honor of his State, 


222 


the next thing Geordie knew some fellow sug- 
gested that there was no use calling him “cor- 
poral ” when he really was a corporal and would 
be a sergeant in less than a year, and so, Connell 
being “ Badger,” why not find a characteristic 
name for Pops. “Call him j53bte,” suggested 
Fowler, who came from far Nebraska, and gave 
the frontiersman’s pronunciation to the Spanish 
coyote — the prairie wolf. And so it happened 
that the two Western chums started their house- 
keeping for the Third Class year under the firm 
name of “ Badger & Coyote.” 

Meantime Benny Frazier, staggering under a 
heavy weight of demerit and the ill -concealed 
distrust of a number of his class, had moved into 
the room across the hall. Connell and Geordie 
had hoped they would not find themselves in the 
same division, but the matter seemed unavoida- 
ble. Benny’s chum was a college -bred young 
fellow of some twenty years of age, with a love 
for slang, cigarettes, and fast society. His name 
was Cullen. No steadiness could be expected 
there. Extremes met in the two cadet house- 
holds at the south end of the third division “cock- 
loft” that beautiful autumn, and, except as ex- 
tremes, they hardly met at all. There was little 
intercourse between the rooms. Cullen sometimes 
came in to borrow matches, soap, postage-stamps, 
or something or other of that ilk; Benny never. 


223 


Studies began at once as they did the previous 
year, and Geordie started about the middle of the 
fourth section in mathematics and in the fifth in 
French. In determining his general standing 
this year he would have no English study to aid 
him. He must do his best with analytical and 
calculus, with French and drawing, and for draw- 
ing he had little or no taste. It was with gloom3 r 
foreboding, therefore, that the boy began his 
work, for there was every prospect of his stand- 
ing lower in January than at the beginning of 
the term. Frankly he wrote home his fears, and 
his eyes filled when he read the loving, confident 
replies. Both father and mother were well con- 
tent with his record, and bade him borrow no 
trouble. Even if French and drawing should 
pull him down a few files, what mattered it? 

Buddie was enthusiastically happy, however, 
for when the revision of the cadet appointments 
was announced very few changes were made ex- 
cept among the corporals. Benton held his place 
as first, Connell rose from fourth to third, Ames, 
more studious than military, dropped a few files, 
and Geordie made the biggest rise of anybody. 
From fourteenth he climbed to eighth, jumping 
among others Crandal, and this in Buddie’s eyes 
was better than standing high in scholarship. 

With all his earnest nature Geordie threw him- 
self into the work before him. Connell, with his 


224 


clear, logical head and steady application, speed* 
ily proved of the utmost service to his less brill- 
iant chum, for, so far from resenting request for 
explanation, he was perpetually inquiring if Geor- 
die saw through this, that, and the other thing, 
and resenting, if anything, the reluctance of his 
room-mate to ask for aid instead of wasting time 
groping in the dark. 

“ Well,” said Pops, “ I don’t want to give up 
until certain I can’t do it myself, and it takes 
time.” 

This in itself was a far better condition of 
things than existed the previous year. Then 
there was another. Connell was every bit as 
orderly and careful as Pops. He held that it 
was unsoldierly to be indifferent to regulations. 
From first to last of September neither received 
a single demerit, and Connell was winning high 
and Graham good marks in every academic duty. 

The autumn weather was gorgeous. The after- 
noon battalion and skirmish drills were full of spir- 
it and interest. Then came early October, early 
frosts, gorgeous foliage all over the heights, and, 
above all, their first lessons in the riding - hall. 
The year of gymnastic training had measurably 
prepared them, and Frazier had ridden, so he in- 
formed his cronies, ever since he was big enough 
to straddle a Shetland ; he therefore was all im- 
patience to show the class how perfectly he was 


THE SKIRMISH DRILLS WERE FULL OF SPIRIT AND INTEREST 



■ : “'x : : . : ■■ 

— ;? m& ; % WM$Wm 

gig: 






225 


at home a cheval. But like many and many 
another youth, poor Benny found there was a vast 
difference between sitting a natty English pig- 
skin on a bridlewise and gaited steed, and riding 
a rough, hard-mouthed cavalry “plug,” whose 
jaws and temper had been wrenched by his ab- 
normal employment as a draught-horse at battery 
drill. Three days’ chafing sent Frazier to hospi- 
tal, while Pops rode higher into popular favor. 

“ Coyote may be no mathematician,” said Winn, 
who, as a Kentuckian, was authority on horse 
matters, “but he can outride any man in this 
class, by jinks ! and give points to many a fel- 
low in the others.” 

When December came Geordie’s patient, stead- 
fast work had begun to tell. Drawing proved 
no such stumbling-block as he expected. He 
found himself clumsy at first in topographical 
work, yet gradually becoming interested and 
skilful. His score was the exact reverse of Fra- 
zier’s. Starting with his usual easy dash and 
confidence, Benny’s performances the first few 
weeks won high marks, while Geordie’s “goose- 
tracks” were rewarded with nothing above 2. 
As weeks wore on the steadfast workers began 
to challenge Frazier for place. One after another 
Benton, Ames, and certain lesser lights climbed 
above him. Then he grew reckless, and the week 
before the Christmas holidays Graham’s mark 


226 


was better than that of the quondam head of the 
class. So, too, in French. Geordie never could 
succeed in reading or speaking the language in 
which Frazier was idiomatic fluency itself, but 
he knew more about its grammatical structure, 
and his translations were accurate, and even at 
times scholarly. The January examination, to 
which Graham had looked forward with such 
dread, because he believed he must go down, 
passed off with very different results. He had 
gained two files in mathematics, ten in languages, 
and twelve in drawing. As for discipline, he and 
Connell stood among the very leaders. 

“ Stick to it, Geordie boy,” wrote Lieutenant 
McCrea, “ we’re proud of you. I have bet Lane 
you will be one of the four first sergeants in June 
and up among the twenties in class rank.” As 
for his mother’s letter, Geordie read it with eyes 
that grew so wet the loving words began to swim 
and dance, and soon were blotted out entirely. 

Then came the long uphill pull to furlough 
June — that blessed, blissful, half-way resting- 
place so eagerly looked forward to. If it meant 
joy to fourscore stalwart young fellows, who for 
two years had been living a life of absolute rou- 
tine and discipline, what did it not promise to 
fond, yearning mother hearts at home — to moth- 
er eyes pining for the sight of the brave boy 
faces so long denied them ? To Pops and Con- 


227 


nell the days sped swiftly by, because they wasted 
no hours in idle dreaming. With them the watch- 
word was ever, “Act, act in the living present.” 

April artillery drills, the dash and whirl and 
thunder of light battery work, were upon them 
before they realized it, and away before they 
thought it possible. But there was drag and 
trouble and tribulation in the room across the 
hall. 

Narrowly escaping discharge on account of 
demerit in January, both Frazier and his room- 
mate began the new year with a whole volume of 
punishments and confinements. “Extras breed 
extras” used to be the saying in the corps. 
There was a time during Christmas holidays 
when Benny’s room was a sort of “open day 
and night” restaurant, where all the reckless 
spirits in the battalion were assembled, where 
demerit seemed to live in the air and be carried 
like microbes of disease all over the barracks. On 
May 1st it was known that Frazier had hardly 
three demerit to run on until the 1st of June, and 
that calculus had tripped and thrown him as 
predicted. Down to the second section went the 
proud head of the year before, and then in the 
midst of trials at the Point came tidings of trib- 
ulation at home. Mr. Frazier senior had been 
taken strangely and suddenly ill; had suffered 
from a partial stroke of paralysis. Benny ap- 


228 


plied for leave for two days. The superintend- 
ent telegraphed for particulars, and on reply re- 
fused the application. There was no immediate 
danger, said the physician. There had been 
business worries and losses, but the stroke was 
not fatal. 

Then Pops and Connell noticed that Mr. Jen- 
nings, who still hung on near the foot of his 
class, was paying frequent visits to Frazier when 
the latter, being in confinement, could not get 
out. Twice they heard high words, but in all 
the excitement of the coming of June and the 
examinations, the delirious joy of trying on the 
civilian dress 'they were now as eager to appear 
in as they were to get out of it and into “ cadets’’ 
two years before, Benny’s affairs attracted little 
attention. 

At last came graduating day of the First Class, 
the announcements of the new officers in the 
battalion, and Pops and Connell, whose chevrons 
as corporals rubbed one against the other for the 
last time in the ranks of the color guard that 
morning, shook hands the instant “rest” was 
ordered, the centre of a fire of chaff and con- 
gratulation. 

“ The firm of ‘ Badger & Coyote ’ is dis- 
solved,” laughed Harry Winn, for Connell was 
promoted first sergeant of Company D, and Geor- 
die, who called the roll of old K Troop in Ari- 


229 


zona when he was but a four-year-old, was des- 
tined for a year to do similar service as cadet 
first sergeant of Company B ; “ and I’d rather 
have you than any man I know,” said his new 
captain, Bend, the first sergeant of their com- 
pany in their plebe camp, that very night. 

And then came the result of the examination. 
Kising to thirty-first in mathematics, thirtieth in 
French, and twenty-second in drawing, standing 
among the first in discipline, Geordie was out of 
the thirties and into the twenties at last; and 
two days later he and Connell — the happiest 
boys in all America — were speeding westward 
together. “ First sergeants and furlough-men, 
Pops,” said Con ; “ who’d ’a’ thought it two years 
ago ? Certainly not Frazier.” 

Alas, poor Benny! Loaded down with de- 
merit, he was held at the Point when his class- 
mates scattered for home. 


CHAPTER XV 


If there is a happier time in a young fellow’s 
life than cadet furlough, I do not know where to 
find it. Geordie’s home-coming was something 
there is little room to tell of in our brief story of 
his cadet days. Fort Reynolds had improved 
but slightly in the two years of his absence ; 
even the quartermaster had to admit that, and 
lay the blame on Congress ; but Pops had im- 
proved very much — very much indeed, as even 
his erstwhile rival, young Breifogle, now a val- 
ued book-keeper in the First National Bank, 
could not but admit. Mrs. Graham’s pride in 
her stalwart boy, Buddie’s glory in his big 
brother, and the doctor’s stubborn Scotch effort 
not to show his satisfaction were all matters of 
kindly comment in the garrison. After a few 
days, during which he was seldom out of his 
mother’s sight or hearing, she kissed him fondly, 
and bade him get to his mountaineering again, 
for she knew the boy longed for his gun and the 
heart of the Rockies. He could have had half of 
Lane’s troop as escort and companions had the 
wishes of the men been consulted, but on the 


231 


three or four expeditions Buddie, at least, was 
ever with him ; and after the long day’s ride or 
tramp the boys would spread their blankets 
under the whispering trees, and, feet to the fire, 
Bud’s chin in his hands, and adoring Pops with 
all his eyes, there for an hour or more he would 
coax his cadet brother for story after story of 
the Point. In August Connell came out and 
spent ten delicious days with them — the first 
time he had ever set foot in any garrison ; and 
it was lovely to see how Mrs. Graham rejoiced 
in her big boy’s faithful friend and chum ; how 
Bud admired, yet could not quite understand 
how or why, either as scholar or sergeant, Con- 
nell could or should stand higher than Pops. He 
pestered both by the hour with questions about 
their companies, the other sergeants, corporals, 
etc. He hung to them by day, and bitterly re- 
sented having to be separated from them by 
night. He could not be made to see why he 
should not go everywhere they went, do every- 
thing they did. 

Connell, it must be owned, found Bud a good 
deal of a nuisance at times, and even brother 
Geordie’s patience was sometimes tried. Bud 
was too big and aggressive now to command 
sympathy, otherwise there would have been 
something actually pathetic in his grievance at 
not being allowed to accompany the two cadets 


232 


when they attended certain “ grown-up ” parties 
to which they were invited in town. The offi- 
cers and ladies at the post made much of the 
young fellows ; McCrea could not do enough for 
them; and as for the troopers, the best horses 
and the hounds were ever at their service, and 
old Sergeant Feeny delighted their hearts by 
always insisting on “standing attention” and 
touching his cap to the two young gentlemen. 
This he was not at all required to do, as they 
were only" half - way to their commissions, as 
Geordie blushingly pointed out to him. 

“ But it’s proud I am to salute ye, sir,” said 
the veteran ; “ and then don’t the regulations say 
a cadet ranks any sergeant in the army ? Sure 
you and Mr. Connell are my supariors in law if 
ye are my juniors in years and chiverones.” 

The officers gave a dance one evening, and 
Pops and Connell, as was perfectly proper, at- 
tired themselves in their newest gray coats, with 
the gleaming chevrons and lozenge of first ser- 
geants, and immaculate white trousers set off by 
the sash of crimson silk net. The ladies, young 
and old, declared the cadet uniform far more 
effective than the army blue ; and some of the 
young matrons who had first seen their future 
husbands when wearing the cadet gray were quite 
sentimentally affected at sight of it again. Then 
there were three or four very pretty girls at the 





»“ V, , If,, Ifm 

ffiiPAS: 




“‘BUT it’s PROUD I AM TO SALUTE YE, SIR,’ SAID THE VETERAN 













. 











































' \ 






* 













































4 ■ k I k • * • i •• t 



















. •* 























233 


fort, visiting their army home for vacation, and 
others in town, and all attended the hops ; and 
both Geordie and Connell were thankful they 
had been so well drilled in dancing. Altogether, 
they had ten days of bliss they never will for- 
get ; and when Connell had to go, everybody at 
Reynolds saw that Miss Kitty Willet, the major’s 
bonny blue-eyed daughter, was wearing on her 
bangle bracelet a new bell button that must have 
come from right over Jim Connell’s heart. 

And then, all too soon for the loving mother, 
it was time for Pops to hasten back to the banks 
of the Hudson, and gird up his loins for the great 
race of the third year. 

“ Pops,” said McCrea, “ you are going back to 
what I hold to be the hardest of the four years, 
and going withal to duties which, more than any 
others in the cadet battalion, call for all the grit 
there is in a man. A young fellow who- does his 
whole duty as first sergeant must make enemies 
among the careless, the slouchy, and the stub- 
born in his company. I hold that no position 
in the battalion is so calculated to develop all 
that is soldierly and manly in a cadet as that of 
first sergeant. There are always upper class men 
who expect to be treated with consideration, even 
when they set bad examples ; then there are year- 
lings always trying to be 4 reekless ’ just to excite 
the envy of the plebes. You’ll find it the tough- 

16 


234 


est place you ever had to fill ; but go at it with 
the sole idea of being square and soldierly, and in 
spite of all they may say or do you’ll win the en- 
during respect of the very men who may buck 
against you and abuse you in every way. As for 
popularity, throw all idea of it to the winds ; it 
isn’t worth having. Teach them to respect you, 
and their esteem and affection will certainly fol- 
low.” 

Again and again, on the long way back to the 
Point, Geordie pondered over what his friend had 
said, and made up his mind to act accordingly. 

“ Sergeant-major may sound bigger,” said Con- 
nell, as the two comrades, reunited on the jour- 
ney, were having their last night’s chat together 
in the sleeper, “ but in point of importance in the 
corps of cadets it simply isn’t in it alongside that 
of first sergeant. My father can’t break himself 
of the old fashions of the war days. He was 4 or- 
derly ’ sergeant, as they called it in ’61, and he 
takes more stock in my being ‘ orderly ’ than my 
being in the 5’s.” 

One day later and they were again in uniform 
and on duty, and Pops found himself calmly look- 
ing over his company, just seventy strong. The 
very first names he saw gave him a twinge of pre- 
monition — Frazier and Jennings. The latter, 
found deficient in one of his studies and accord- 
ed a re-examination in June, had been turned 


235 


back to join the new Second Class ; and he and 
Frazier had decided to live together in Company 
B, taking a third-floor area room in the fourth 
division, while Geordie, with Ames for his mate, 
moved in opposite Cadet Captain Bend, who occu- 
pied the tower room on the second floor. Every- 
body was surprised at Jennings’s transfer from 
Company A, where he had served three years, to 
B, with whose captain and first sergeant both he 
had had difficulty in the past. Moreover, there 
was no little comment on his living with Frazier, 
for the few who are known as “ turnbacks ” in 
the corps are usually most tenacious about living 
with some member of their original class. But 
Bandal, the new first captain, was glad to get so 
turbulent a spirit as Jennings out of his ranks, 
and Jennings was of such a height as to enable 
him to fit in very well, as the battalion was sized 
in those days on the left of A or the right 
of B. 

Frazier’s class rank was now only 17. A story 
was in circulation that he had written to no less 
than five of the class, begging them to room with 
him, and promising to “ brace up” this year; but 
this was confidential matter, and the cadets whose 
names were given could neither affirm nor deny. 
One thing was certain : Frazier had not been ben- 
efited by his furlough. He was looking sallow 
and out of condition. His father’s health showed 


236 


no improvement, so he told his chums ; neither 
did his father’s affairs, but this he told nobody. 
Like a number of other deluded people, Benny 
believed wealth essential to high repute. 

For the first week no friction was apparent. 
Pops had speedily memorized his roster, and 
mapped out his plans for the daily routine. He 
had to attend guard -mounting every morning 
now, which took away something like forty min- 
utes from possible study-time, and perhaps twen- 
ty minutes to half an hour were needed in mak- 
ing out the morning reports and other papers. 
On the other hand, he had the benefit of more 
exercise by day, and a light after taps until eleven 
o’clock. All through the Fourth Class year ca- 
dets are compelled to attend daily gymnastic ex- 
ercise under a most skilful teacher ; after that it is 
optional, and, as all get a fair amount of out-door 
work except during the winter months, very many 
cadets fail to keep up the training of the plebe 
year. Hot so Pops and Connell. Kegularly ev- 
ery day these young athletes put in half an hour 
with the Indian clubs, determined that when the 
drills were discontinued they would keep up sys- 
tematic training in the “ gym.” But within the 
first fortnight after their return to barracks, Con- 
nell, coming over to compare notes as usual, quiet- 
ly said they might as well add sparring to the list. 

“ We may need that more than we think, Pops. 


237 


That fellow Jennings is stirring up trouble, un- 
less I am mistaken.’’ 

Now there are all manner of little points against 
which a cadet first sergeant has constantly to be 
warring, or his company will become lax and un- 
soldierly. Unless promptly and firmly met, there 
are always a number of old cadets who want to 
saunter to their places at drum-beat, who will be, 
if allowed, always just a little slow, whose coats 
are not buttoned throughout or collars not ad- 
justed when they fall in, who are unsteady in 
ranks, who answer to their names either bois- 
terously or ludicrously, who slouch through the 
manual when not actually on parade, holding it 
to be undignified in an old cadet to observe the 
motions like a plebe, who are never closed up to 
the proper distance at the final tap of the drum — 
in fine, in a dozen little ways, unless the first ser- 
geant is fearless and vigilant, and demands equal 
vigilance of his assistants, the morale of the com- 
pany is bound to go down. First Class men and 
yearlings are generally the men at fault ; plebes, 
as a rule, do the best they know how, for other- 
wise no mercy is shown them. 

Yery much in this way did the “custom” 
strike Connell and Pops. What with roll-calls, 
recitations, riding, and the brisk evening drills 
and parade, Geordie had no time to think of any- 
thing beyond his duties. But Connell said thai 


238 


Jennings had been over talking to some of his 
former class-mates, who were old stagers in Com- 
pany D, and who were doing a good deal of talk- 
ing now among themselves about the impropriety 
of appointing as their first sergeant a fellow from 
the right wing of the battalion who was not im- 
bued with the time-honored tenets and traditions 
of the left-flank company. First Class men, said 
they, had always enjoyed certain privileges, as be- 
came gentlemen of their high standing, who were 
to become officers in less than a year, and one day 
it was decided they should sound Connell as to 
what his views might be, and the result was not 
at all to their liking. Connell couldn’t be made 
to see that, because they were speedily to don the 
army blue, they should meantime be allowed to 
discredit the cadet gray. 

“ There’s no reason that I can see,” said Con- 
nell// 4 why First Class men shouldn’t be just as 
soldierly in ranks as other cadets, and every rea- 
son why they should.” 

Then a B Company committee of two infor- 
mally dropped in on Pops with a similar query, 
and got almost the same answer. Whereupon 
the committee said that the class had taken 
counsel together on the subject. They courted 
no trouble whatever, but simply gave Graham to 
understand that it wasn’t “ customary ” to hold a 
First Class man in the ranks to the same rigid 


239 


performance of the manual and the same precise 
carriage that would be exacted of a plebe. Nei- 
ther could they be held to strict account in such 
trivial affairs as falling in for roll-call with coats 
unbuttoned or collars awry or belts twisted, or for 
other little matters of the kind, and any reports 
given them for such would be “ regarded as per- 
sonal.” Whereupon they took their leave, and 
Geordie met Con with a broad Scotch grin on 
his face. 

“Jennings is at the bottom of it all,” said 
Connell. “He wants them, however, to start 
the move over in D Company, because he can’t 
initiate anything of the kind under Bend. You 
understand.” 

“Well, to my thinking, and according to the 
way I was brought up,” said Geordie, “ such 
specimens should be court - martialled and dis- 
missed the service. Men who have no higher 
idea of duty than that are not fit to be officers 
in the army.” 

“ We-el,” said philosopher Con, “ they are boys 
only a little older than plebes, so far as knowl- 
edge of the world is concerned. The more I 
look at it the more I see just how comically ju- 
venile we are in a way. When we were plebes, 
dozens of our class were never going to speak to 
those fellows of the yearlings, and never, never 
going to devil plebes. Within a year most of 


240 


us were hobnobbing with the class above and 
lording it over the class below. As yearlings, 
lots of our fellows hated the first sergeants, who 
made us stand round, and we weren’t going to 
have anything to do with them. Now we who 
are sergeants not only mean to make the year- 
lings toe the mark, but the First Class men as 
well, and they are going to force a fight on us 
for doing the very thing that in three or four 
years from now any one of their number who 
happens to be on duty here as an instructor will 
report a first sergeant for not doing. The whole 
corps says that when HV comes back here as 
an officer it won’t forget it ever was a cadet, as 
every officer seems to do the moment he gets 
here, and you can bet your sash and chevrons it 
will do just exactly as the officers seem to do to- 
day. Now these fellows have an overweening 
idea of their importance because they are so soon 
to be graduates. That seems something very 
big from our point of view, and yet about the 
first thing a second lieutenant has to learn when 
he gets to his regiment is that he doesn’t amount 
to a hill of beans. He’s nothing but a plebe all 
over again. There’s Jim Forester ; when he was 
cadet officer of the day and we were plebes, 
didn’t we think him just a little tin god on 
wheels? Recollect what a bully voice he had, 
and how he used to swing old D Company ? But 


241 


what did he amount to at Fort Reynolds last 
summer? Nothing but a low-down second lieu- 
tenant going on as officer of the guard, drilling 
squads, and — do you remember how the colonel 
jumped him that morning for some error in the 
guard list ? Why, Geordie, you and I were of 
much more account at the fort than he was. And 
now here are these fellows kicking against the 
pricks. They don’t want to be soldierly, because 
it’s too plebelike in view of their coming shoul- 
der-straps. We-el, they’ve just got to, that’s all 
there is about it. Where are the gloves ?” 

And with that the two Westerners doffed their 
coats, donned the “ mittens,” and hammered away 
at each other as they were in daily habit of do- 
ing, and had been doing more or less for many 
a month of their Third Class year, Sayers and 
other experts coaching and occasionally taking 
hold for a brisk round or two on their own ac- 
count. It was well understood that both Badger 
and Coyote were in tip - top trim and training. 
Meanwhile no trouble occurred in Connell’s com- 
pany worth speaking of, and little of consequence 
in B, but it was brewing. Three or four sen- 
iors had been deservedly reported for minor 
offences exactly as Geordie said they should be, 
but they were gentlemen who took it without 
audible comment and as a matter of course. 
Then came an experiment. Mr. Curry, a First 


242 


Class man of rather slender build and reputation, 
one of the Jennings set, backed deliberately into 
ranks one morning at reveille, and stood there 
leisurely buttoning bis coat, glancing at Graham 
out of the corner of bis eye. Geordie had just 
about reached the B’s in his roll, and stopped 
short. 

“ Curry, fall out and button that coat.” 

Curry reddened, but did not budge. 

Pops budged, but did not redden. If anything 
he was a trifle paler as he stepped quickly over 
opposite the left of the company. His voice was 
low and firm : 

“ Curry, fall out at once and button that 
coat.” 

Only two buttons were by this time left un- 
fastened. It took but a second to snap them 
into place. And then — 

“ My coat is buttoned,” said Curry. 

“ It was unbuttoned throughout when you fell 
in ranks, and you know it. You also heard my 
order to fall out, and disobeyed it,” was Graham’s 
answer. Then back to his post he went, finished 
roll - call, reported “ All present, sir,” to Cadet 
Captain Bend, who had silently watched the af- 
fair, very possibly thinking it just as well to let 
Graham settle it for himself. And the next 
night after parade the following reports were 
read out in the clear tones of the cadet adjutant : 


243 


“ Curry — Buttoning coat in ranks at reveille. 

u Same — Continuing same after being ordered 
to fall out. 

“Same — Keplying to first sergeant from ranks 
at same.” 

Before Graham had thrown off his belts Mr. 
Jennings appeared, and with much majesty of 
mien proceeded to say : 

“Mr. Graham, you have taken advantage of 
Mr. Curry’s size, and in his name and in that 
of the First Class I am here to demand satis- 
faction.” 

“ Go for Connell,” said Geordie, with a quiet 
nod to Ames. 

Next morning Mr. Jennings did not appear 
at reveille at all. It seems that the demand was 
honored at sight. Cadet Captain Bend cut sup- 
per and risked his chevrons to see that fight. 
Connell’s heart was up in his mouth just about 
half the time as he seconded his sergeant com- 
rade. It was a long-fought, longer remembered 
battle, and ended only within five minutes of 
call to quarters — Jennings at last, as had been 
predicted two years before, utterly used up, and 
Geordie, though bruised and battered, still in the 
ring. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Time flies at the Point, even in the hardest 
year of the fonr, as McCrea had called that of 
the Second Class. What with mechanics and 
chemistry, “tactics” and drawing, riding and 
drills, winter was upon them before our boys 
fairly realized it. Every day seemed to make 
Graham feel more assured in his position, and to 
strengthen the esteem in which he was held. 
The cabal of the few First Class men had re- 
acted upon the originators like a boomerang. 
Jennings was in hospital a full week, and Curry 
walked punishment tours until January. Now, 
while Jennings was probably not the best man, 
pugilistically speaking, whom they could put up 
against the first sergeants, the better men were 
as sound morally and mentally as they were 
physically. Some of them expressed regret that 
Graham felt it his duty to make such serious re- 
ports against their class-mate, but it was con- 
ceded by every soldier and gentleman that Curry 
had brought it all on himself. As for Jennings, 
he richly deserved the thrashing that he had re- 
ceived, and a more humiliated and astonished 


245 


fellow there was not in the corps. There was no 
more trouble in Company B. Geordie ruled it 
with a hand that never shook, yet without the 
faintest bluster or show of triumph. The First 
Class men, as a rule, were a very pleasant set, 
with a pride in their company, a pride in the 
corps, and a readiness to sustain Graham ; and 
so he and his fellow-sergeants were spared fur- 
ther complication of that description. “ In time 
of peace prepare for war, however,” laughed Con- 
nell. “ There’s no surer way of keeping the peace 
than being ready for anything that may turn up.” 

Almost before they knew it the short days and 
the long, long evenings were upon them again. 
Mechanics and chemistry seemed to grow harder, 
but Graham had gained confidence and his in- 
structors wisdom. They found that by digging 
under the surface there was much more to Geor- 
die’s knowledge of a subject than was at first 
apparent, and his mind as well worth cultivating 
as many a quicker soil. As for the corps, it is 
remarkable how many there were who knew all 
along that Jennings was a vastly overrated, over- 
confident fellow, whose fame was based on vic- 
tories over lighter weights, and whose condition 
had been running down as steadily as Coyote’s 
had been building up. In his own class Geor- 
die was now the object of an almost enthusiastic 
regard, while the plebes looked upon him with 


246 


hero-worship most extravagant. He had his 
enemies, as strong and dutiful men must ever 
have, but they were of such a class as Curry and 
Frazier and Jennings. “ And what decent man in 
the corps cares for the ill-will of such as they V 
asked Ames. “It’s proof of a fellow’s supe- 
riority.” 

Midwinter came, and one day Frazier was 
“ wired ” for suddenly. “ Bad news from home,” 
said Jennings, in explanation, when the battal- 
ion was gathering between the first and second 
drums for dinner. This time the superintendent 
did not deny a leave, but extended it a few days 
to enable the boy to remain for his father’s fu- 
neral. Benny came back looking years older, 
sallow, and unhealthy. The broad, deep mourn- 
ing band on his left arm was explanation of his 
non-appearance at the Thanksgiving hop. Geor- 
die, Ames, and Connell went over to look on and 
hear the music. 

“We’ll have to be doing this sort of thing 
next year, Pops,” said Connell, “ so we may as 
well go and pick up pointers.” There were not 
many girl visitors — at least, not enough for the 
cavaliers of the senior class, so that many of the 
corps did not dance at all. About ten o’clock 
Graham decided he had seen enough and would 
go home to study a while. The wind was blow- 
ing hard from the east. There was a mild, pallid 


GEORDIE, AMESj AND CONNELL WENT OYER TO LOOK ON AND HEAR THE MUSIC 







247 


moon vainly striving to peep through a swift- 
sailing fleet of scud, and throwing a faint, ghost- 
ly light over the barracks and guard-house. Out 
from the shadows of the stone-wall back of the 
mess building suddenly appeared a figure in the 
cadet overcoat with the cape thrown over his 
head. Catching sight of Graham, and recog- 
nizing apparently his step and form, the figure 
slipped back again whence it came, but not so 
quickly that Pops did not know it was Benny 
Frazier. Half a minute later, as he sprang up 
the steps of the fourth division, he came upon 
two cadets standing just within the doorway — 
plebes. 

“ Oh, Mr. Graham,” said one, “ the officer of 
the day is inspecting for men in confinement, 
and Mr. Jennings and Mr. Frazier are both out.” 

Hot an instant was to be lost. Pops could 
hear the clink of the cadet sword and the slam 
of doors in the second division. In two min- 
utes the officer would be*over in the fourth, and 
“ Benny and Jenny,” as the pair were occasion- 
ally termed, would be “ hived ” absent. Arrest 
and heavy punishment must surely follow. Pops 
never stopped to follow the chain of thought. 
Back he sped on the wings of the wind. Five 
seconds and he reached the corner. Hot a sign 
of the recent prowler, yet Geordie felt sure 
he had seen Frazier dart back behind that wall 


248 


barely half a minute before — engaged in some 
clandestine bargaining with one of his messengers 
from the Falls, probably — and Jennings with 
him. Not a sign of the party down the dark, 
narrow lane behind the wall, not a sign of them 
up the grassy slope to the west back of the area 
retaining wall. 

“ Frazier ! Jennings ! Quick !” he called, loud 
enough to attract their attention if they were 
near at hand. 

No answer. 

It was off limits if he ventured either way, 
west or south, from the corner where he stood, 
and “off chevrons” if caught. Why risk his 
prospects for First Class year to save men who 
had ever been his enemies, and never would have 
lifted a hand to save him? Only the swaying of 
the branches and the sweep of the wind answered 
his excited hail. Not an instant to lose ! Bound- 
ing up the westward path he ran until beyond 
the guard-house, and there came suddenly upon 
a shadowy group of four. 

“ Back to your room, Frazier ! Inspection !” 
he gasped, halting short. 

Two cadets rushed at the word. The two 
other forms slunk away, as though seeking to 
hide themselves among the trees up the hill-side. 
One was a civilian, a stranger to him ; the other 
the drummer with whom Frazier had had the 


249 


altercation more than a year previous. What 
were they doing now ? Graham never stopped 
to have a word with them. Quickly he retraced 
his steps, and succeeded in regaining the area 
unnoticed. The officer of the day was just com- 
ing out of the fourth division as Geordie went 
in. 

“ Hello, Coyote ! Tired of the light fantastic ? 
or didn’t you hop to-night V J he jovially asked. 

“ Had to come back to bone,” was the reply. 

It was evident from the cheery manner that 
nothing had been found amiss. The pair had 
managed to reach their den in safety, then ; yet 
only in the nick of time. Geordie went to his 
room and to work, yet the thought of that un- 
seemly stolen interview between Frazier and 
Jennings, the drummer and the stranger, kept 
intruding itself upon his mind. Presently a 
stealthy step came down the stair and to his 
door. Enter Frazier, still pale, still nervous and 
palpitating. 

“ Graham, you did me a great service — me and 
Jennings — to-night. I— I know — we haven’t 
got along as well as we should, and I suppose I 
am partially to blame ; but I don’t want you to 
think I can’t appreciate the risk you ran to save 
us, though either of us, of course, would have 
done as much for you — any time. You know 

that, I hope. We had some business out there, 
17 


250 


and d-did you see the others — so as to know 
them ?” 

“ I knew the drummer well enough,” said 
Graham, his blue eyes full on Benny’s nervous 
face. 

“Well, the other one’s a cit. who’s doing some- 
thing for us. Say, one good turn deserves an- 
other. Don’t tell anybody about where you 
saw us, or who were with us, will you? I 
wouldn’t like it to get out on Jennings’s account. 
He’s got to work like a dog to graduate, as it is.” 

And before Graham could answer, in came 
Ames, astonished at sight of Frazier, and to him 
Benny began a hurried explanation of how Pops 
had heard of the inspection, and had rushed down 
to warn him. Then saying “ Kemember what I 
asked you” to Graham, he awkwardly let him- 
self out. 

“How are the mighty fallen!” soliloquized 
Ames, as Benny disappeared. “ They say he’s 
going ’way down in both Phil, and Chem. in 
January. He has no French to help him now. 
Benton thinks he’ll tumble into the low thirties. 
What did he want of you ?” 

“ Nothing to speak of,” answered Pops, with 
that quiet grin of his. “ He-e — said he came to 
thank me for giving that warning.” 

“ Oh, thanks be blowed ! He never came to 
thank you, Pops. That was only a pretext. He 


251 


came to ask you to do or not to do something 
on his account, and I know it.” 

So did Geordie, by this time, but could not 
say so. 

Four days after this episode leave of absence 
from 9.30 a.m. until 11 p.m. was granted Cadet 
Frazier on urgent personal business. A letter 
from an executor of the Frazier estate was the 
means of getting the order. It was known in 
the corps that, being now twenty-one, Benny was 
master of some little property, though nowhere 
near what he had expected would be his own. 
Making all allowances for the sadness and de- 
pression naturally following the loss of a loved 
parent, it was remarked that every day seemed 
to add to the trouble and dejection in Frazier’s 
sallow face. He took little exercise, except the 
enforced tramp in the area on Saturday after- 
noons. He smoked incessantly. He seemed 
petulant and miserable in Jennings’s society, yet 
Jennings was his inseparable companion. Wher- 
ever he went, there was J ennings. “ What in the 
world is the tie that binds those two ?” was the 
question often asked. They were utterly unlike. 
Their antecedents were widely opposed. Frazier 
had been reared in luxury and refinement; Jen- 
nings in nobody knew just what. He was the 
representative of [one of the “ toughest” con- 
gressional districts, originally known as the San- 


252 


guinary Second, in a crowded metropolis. He 
was smart in a certain way that spoke of long 
association with the street Arab and saloon 
sports. He was useful in plebe days when his 
class was standing up for what few rights a 
plebe is conceded to have, but lost caste as rapid- 
ly as his comrades gained wisdom. Only among 
the few weaklings of the Curry stamp had he a 
vestige of influence left before the long-expected 
fight with Graham, and after that and his utter 
and unlooked-for defeat his name seemed held 
only in derision. Yet he lorded it over Frazier. 
“ You can hear them snapping and snarling at 
one another at any hour of the day or night,” 
said their near neighbors. “If Frazier hates 
him so, why on earth doesn’t he £ shake ’ him ? 
They’re getting enough demerit between them 
to swamp half a dozen men.” These comments 
were almost universal. 

By this time Frazier’s downward course had 
brought him, both in philosophy and chemistry, 
into Geordie’s sections. Once in a while he 
would rouse himself and make a brilliant reci- 
tation, but as a rule he seemed apathetic, even 
reckless. Time and again the young fellow’s 
dark-rimmed eyes were fixed upon his old plebe 
room - mate’s face with such a hungry, wistful, 
woful look that it haunted Geordie for days. 
Every time the latter surprised him in the act, 


253 


however, Benny would turn quickly and deject- 
edly away. But more than once Graham almost 
made up his mind to go and beg the boy to say 
what was his trouble, and let him help him out. 

At last the opportunity came. It was just be- 
fore the January examination. Going one night 
to Frazier’s room to notify him of a change in 
the guard detail, he found Benny alone at the 
table, his head buried in his arms, his attitude one 
of hopelessness and despair. He sprang up the 
instant he heard Geordie’s voice. 

“I — I — thought it was Jennings,” he stam- 
mered, all confusion. “ What’s wanted ?” 

“I came to tell you Ewen would go on sick 
report, and you’d have to march on guard in his 
place.” 

This was said at the door. Then, impulsively 
stepping forward, Graham laid a hand on his 
shoulder. 

“But, Frazier, I hate to see you looking so 
miserable. If you’re in trouble, can’t you let us 
help you out ? There are plenty of fellows left 
to be your friends. It doesn’t become me to say 
anything against your room-mate, but lots of us 
think you would do well to cut loose from him.” 

“ Cut loose — from him ?” wailed Benny, wring- 
ing his hands, and turning to Geordie with a 
look in his dark eyes Pops can never forget. 
“ Oh, if I only — ” But there he stopped abrupt- 


254 


ly, and turned quickly away. Jennings came 
frowning in, his angry eyes full of suspicion as 
they glowered at Pops. 

“ To what circumstance do we owe the honor 
of this visit ?” asked he, in attempted imitation 
of the theatrical heroes of his acquaintance. 

Geordie calmly looked him over a moment, 
but never deigned reply. Then turned to Ben- 
ny. “ Frazier,” said he, as he moved quietly to 
the door, “any time you feel like dropping in 
on Ames and me, come, and be sure of a wel- 
come.” Then, with another cool glance at Jen- 
nings, but without speaking one word to him, he 
left the room. 

That night — a bitter cold December night it 
was — Pops had just finished telling Ames of the 
strange state of things as he found them on his 
visit to Frazier ; the tattoo drums were hammer- 
ing through the area and drowning other sounds ; 
the inspector of the upper subdivision had come 
down into Bend’s room to have a chat with his 
fellow-officer, when the drums stopped with one 
abrupt and unanimous slam, and as they did so 
Graham’s eyes dilated, and he sprang to his 
feet. 

A gasping, half-articulate cry and the sound 
of scuffling feet came from the third floor. 
Geordie could have sworn he heard his name. 
Out he went, up the iron stairs he flew, and into 


255 


utter darkness. The hall light was doused as 
his foot spurned the lowermost step. Whirling 
at the head of the stairs, he sped to Frazier’s 
door, other cadets rushing at his heels. There 
was Benny, with livid face, struggling in the 
grasp of his burly room-mate, whose muscular 
hands were choking, strangling at poor Frazier’s 
throat. One blow from Graham’s fist sent the 
big bully reeling across the room ; while Benny, 
suddenly released, fell all of a heap on the 
floor. 

“You brute! How dare you grapple a little 
fellow like that ?” was all Pops had time to say 
before Bend and his lieutenant came bounding 
in behind him. 

“ Back, Jennings ! Down with him !” ordered 
Bend, as the maddened “ tough ” sprang to the 
arm -rack and seized his rifle. Half a dozen 
hands collared him before he could draw the 
bayonet. He backed into a corner, his young 
captain facing him. 

“ Stand where you are, sir,” was the stern or- 
der. “ What does all this mean ? What has he 
done to you, Frazier ?” 

Geordie and Ames were raising Benny by 
this time. He was faint, bleeding at the mouth 
and ears, speechless, and out of breath. 

“ Give him some water and lay him down on 
the bed. Don’t crowd around him. He needs 


256 


air. Get out, all of you !” and Bend turned on 
the rapidly increasing crowd. “Back to your 
quarters !” And then the rattle of cadet swords 
could be heard against the iron stairway — the 
sergeant of the guard racing to the scene, fol- 
lowed by the officer of the day. 

“He insulted and defied me,” growled Jen- 
nings, glowering about on the circle of hostile 
faces. “He insulted my people, my kith and 
kin. I dare him to deny it, or to tell what led 
to this. Take your hands off of me, you fel- 
lows ; I’m no criminal. If you’re laying for a 
thief, there’s your game yonder,” he said, indi- 
cating his prostrate room-mate. 

“Shut up, Jennings,” ordered Bend; “that’s 
cowardly.” 

“ Cowardly, is it ? You’ll rue those words, my 
fine fellow. I thrashed you well once, and I’ve 
just been praying for another chance, and now 
I’ve got it. Cowardly, is it? By Heaven, you’ll 
smart for that !” 

And then, calm and dignified, appeared the of- 
ficer in charge, Lieutenant Allen. A glance at 
Benny, still livid and gasping, was sufficient. 
“Go for Dr. Brett,” he said to Ames. Then he 
turned on Jennings, still backed into the cor- 
ner, and confronted there by his cool young 
captain. “There seems to be no reasonable 
doubt that you are your room-mate’s assail- 


257 


ant, Mr. Jennings. You are placed in close ar- 
rest, sir.” 

Another night, hours later, the wires flashed 
a message to the widowed mother, bidding her 
come to the bedside of her only son. 


CHAPTER XYII 


January examinations passed by without ma- 
terial change in the standing of those in whom we 
are most interested, except in the case of Benny 
Frazier — too ill to appear before the Board. For 
weeks he had been “running down,” and the 
assault at the hands of Jennings proved but the 
climax that brought on a violent and dangerous 
siege of fever. For days the devoted mother, 
aided by skilled nurses, was ever at the side of 
her stricken boy. Volunteers from his class, too, 
were always in readiness as night- watchers ; but 
almost from the first the one for whom he called 
and of whom he moaned in his delirium was 
Geordie Graham. No one saw the meeting be- 
tween the heart-sick, almost hopeless woman and 
her son’s earliest friend and room-mate, but that 
she had been deeply agitated was plain. From 
their interview she came forth clinging to his 
arm, leaning on his strength, and from that time 
she was never content to have him far away. 
Each day, between retreat parade and evening 
call to quarters, there were hours he could spend 
at Frazier’s bedside, and they were the only 


259 


hours in all the twenty -four that the feeble, 
childlike patient looked forward to with any- 
thing but apathy. For days his life hung in the 
balance ; but when at last the crisis came and 
went and left him pitiably weak in body and 
spirit, the one thing he seemed to cling to in life 
was Graham’s brown and muscular hand. 

“ I wonder I am not jealous,” said Mrs. Frazier 
to the doctor’s kindly wife ; “ but I thank God 
my poor boy has such a friend left to him, after 
all his trouble — all the misery into which that — 
that awful person has led and held him.” 

And the awful person was Jennings, who, 
shunned like a pariah by the corps, was again 
awaiting trial by court-martial as soon as Fra- 
zier should be able to testify. For days it looked 
as though Benny never could appear before an 
earthly court, and that this case, like the other, 
must go by default. So long as it appeared that 
the fever would prove fatal, Jennings kept up 
his air of bravado and confidence. The evidence 
of Graham and Ames, the first to reach the 
scene of the assault, would be sufficient to con- 
vict him of that offence, but even they could 
prove nothing beyond a personal row, said he. 
It was fully understood, however, that back of 
all this trouble was the old case of Benny’s plebe 
camp, and that the assault on Graham when a 
sentry, the stealing of Graham’s rifle, and the de- 


sertion of Musician Doyle were all matters in 
which Jennings was a prime mover; and though 
now “outlawed by the statute” — more than two 
years having passed since the occurrence of these 
offences, during which time the alleged offender 
had in no wise sought to secrete himself from 
military justice, and therefore a case no longer 
triable by court-martial — there is no two-year 
limit to the contempt of the corps of cadets. 
They could send him to Coventry at any time, 
and even though he were graduated it might be 
impossible to obtain a commission. 

But when it was noised about the battalion 
that Benny was on the mend, and that, day after 
day, he looked forward to nothing as he did to 
Geordie’s visit, it became known that he had 
made a full and frank confession, and that Jen- 
nings was deeply implicated. Interviewed on 
this subject, Graham refused to say a word ; but 
Mrs. Frazier had been less cautious. It seemed 
as though she could not do enough to undo her 
coldness and injustice to Geordie in the past, or 
to express her affection and regard for him now. 
In the overflow of her gratitude and joy, when 
at last her son was declared out of danger, she 
told the story to sympathetic lady friends, wives 
of officers stationed at the post, almost as it had 
been told to her by Benny, and it was not long 
in leaking through to the corps. The pent-up 


261 


wrath of the battalion is not a thing to see and 
forget. The story flew from lip to lip. “ Tar- 
and-feather him !” “ Kick him out !” “ Turn 

him loose and let him run the gantlet!” were 
some of the mad suggestions, but Bend and 
cooler counsels prevailed. Realizing his peril, 
Jennings implored the protection of the com- 
mandant, and was given a room in the officers’ 
angle. Then the commandant and adjutant 
went with Dr. Brett to the convalescent’s bed- 
side, and Benny’s statement was reduced to 
writing. 

A few days later the police of Jersey City laid 
hands on a precious pair. One of them bore the 
name of Peter Peterson, the other was Doyle, 
ex -drummer, both wanted for blackmail and 
other offences, and Doyle for desertion. The 
news of this capture reached the corps late in 
the afternoon, and was the talk of the whole 
mess-hall at supper. Next morning at breakfast 
came sensation still bigger : 

Jennings had fled. 

Some time during the night he had packed up 
such things as he could carry and stolen quietly 
away. A sentry said he saw a young man in 
civilian dress, with a bag in his hand, going down 
towards the south dock about 11 o’clock. He 
boarded a night train at Cranston’s Station, and 
that was all. It proved the easiest settlement of 


262 


a vexed case. The court-martial turned its at- 
tention to Doyle, the deserter, and Doyle pleaded 
guilty, for his was a case that was still triable 
because he had absented himself ever since the 
desertion occurred. Throwing himself upon the 
mercy of the court, the boy made his statement. 
He said that one evening in camp, three summers 
back, Mr. Jennings was sentry on Humber Three, 
and told him he wanted him, Doyle, to do an 
errand. Cadets often employed him, and paid 
him money to carry notes, or to buy cigars, or 
the like. It was arranged that he was to be 
there, back of Company A, about ten minutes 
before tattoo, and, going there, he found a rifle 
leaning against a tree, and this Mr. Jennings 
bade him carry out to a point near the east edge 
of the dump hollow, and look there in the weeds, 
where he would find, half hidden, another one. 
The drummers were allowed to cross the post 
of Number Three without question. He had no 
difficulty in finding and fetching in the rusty 
rifle, and left the new rifle in its place, as he had 
been told, supposing that it was only some trick 
they were playing. Mr. Frazier was there, in- 
side the sentry’s post, on his return, and received 
from him the rusty gun. That night, later, when 
he heard the adjutant and the cadet captains 
talking, ■'he saw the matter was serious and got 
scared, and went out next day and “ found,” as 


he expressed it, what he had left there, and car- 
ried it to the adjutant. He was closely ques* 
tioned, got more frightened, and wanted to tell 
all he knew; but Jennings swore he would be 
tried and sent to jail as a thief, and warned him 
the only safety lay in secrecy. Mr. Frazier gave 
him ten dollars then to buy his silence, and prom- 
ised him more ; but when Jennings was put in 
arrest and court was ordered to convene, both 
Jennings and Frazier were badly scared, and told 
him there was no hope for him at all if it came 
to trial, as they’d have to testify to his part in 
the thing, and that meant penitentiary. Then 
old Mr. Frazier came and had a talk with him 
down at the Falls : told him he must get away 
to save himself, gave him fifty dollars, and prom- 
ised him employment and immunity from arrest 
if he would go at once. Doyle told Reilly, anoth- 
er of the boys, of his trouble, and Reilly said he’d 
better go. He got away all right, but the place 
Mr. Frazier gave him in Pennsylvania among 
the miners was too hard work ; he couldn’t stand 
it, and asked for more money, and until Frazier 
died he paid him. Then there was no way but 
to turn to the cadet, through Reilly, saying he 
was starving, and would have to come and give 
himself up and tell all about how the old man 
had bribed him to desert. Then all of a sudden 
he was nabbed, and that ended it. Ho ! Cadet 


264 


Frazier had never suggested desertion. It was 
all Mr. Jennings and the father. 

And Benny’s story corroborated much of poor 
Doyle’s. Jennings had halted him down by the 
water-tank that wretched night in camp, pointed 
out how Pops was being shown too much favorit- 
ism and getting the “ big head.” Jennings put 
him up to getting Graham’s rifle — a matter that 
was easily accomplished in the darkness and the 
deserted street of Company B; but he never 
meant it for anything more than a joke, though 
he was jealous of Graham’s success, and did think 
that he was having too much partiality shown 
him. Then when Jennings told him to take the 
rusty rifle to the tent in place of the new one, 
he wanted to back out ; but it was too late. 
Jennings bullied and threatened him with ex- 
posure and dismissal for stealing, etc. — threatened 
even then to call the corporal of the guard and 
have him taken to the guard-house, caught in the 
act. He was bewildered and terrified, and ended 
by doing exactly as he was told. Then came 
that dreadful day of investigation, followed later 
by Jennings’s arrest; and then Jennings told him 
of their desperate plight, and bade him wire for 
his father to come at once. Jennings told him 
what to say to his father, and wrote a letter, set- 
ting forth what would happen if the drum-boy 
could not be “ fixed,” and suggesting how to fix 


265 


him. His father was utterly dismayed at the 
scrape that Benny was in, and accepted all Jen- 
nings’s statements. He did not, of course, con- 
sult any of the officers, but carried out everything 
proposed to the letter. For the time being the 
boys were saved, but within another year Benny 
learned from the other drum -boy, Reilly, the 
one with whom he had had the trouble, that 
Doyle had let the cat out of the bag. Then he 
had to bribe Reilly. Then J ennings, too, levied 
on him, and his father later on, while on fur- 
lough ; and after his father’s death poor Benny’s 
life was one succession of torments. Doyle, 
Reilly, and Jennings, too, “bled” and threatened 
him time and again, until in his desperation he 
sought to make a clean breast of it all to Gra- 
ham. That night Jennings suspected his object, 
overtook him in the hall, seized and choked and 
carried him back, and nearly finished him by 
strangulation before rescue came. Benny was 
ready to stand trial — suffer any punishment ; but 
by this time the poor fellow’s prostration and 
penitence, his mother’s tears and anxiety, and 
the fact that he had been throughout the entire 
history of the affair only a cat’s-paw, coupled 
with the reports of the surgeons that he was in 
no condition to face a trial, all prevailed. It was 
late in February before he was sufficiently re- 
covered to be moved about, and then sick leave 

18 


266 


of absence was granted, and he with his devoted 
mother left for Nassau. He had parted company 
with the old class for good and all, and was or- 
dered to report in June and join the class below. 

March, spring drills, spring rides, and the elec- 
tion of hop managers for First Class camp, all 
were upon them again before Benny and his 
strange and unhappy experiences had ceased to 
be the universal topic of conversation. Geordie 
had wonderful letters to write that month, and 
there had been an interchange of missives be- 
tween two grateful, prayerful women, one let- 
ter leading to another, until now Mrs. Graham’s 
weekly budget to her big boy was full of Mrs. 
Frazier and the sweet, womanly, motherly let- 
ters she wrote. April came, and, despite his 
modest declination of such an honor, Geordie 
found himself chosen among the foremost of the 
nine hop managers for the coming camp. More 
than that, while study had become so habitual to 
him that he had risen slowly but steadily even 
in the most difficult portions of applied mathe- 
matics, his progress in chemistry and kindred 
topics had been still more marked. But, better 
than all, he was now in the midst of a course 
wherein no one in all the class was more thor- 
oughly at home. From boyhood, drill and drill 
regulations, as they are called in this day — “ tac- 
tics,” as they were in his — were matters of every- 


267 


day acquaintance. He knew cavalry drill “ from 
a to izzard,” and the infantry tactics through the 
school of the battalion thoroughly and well. But 
all the same he left no stone unturned, no para- 
graph unstudied, before each day’s recitation. 
Here, at least, were subjects in which he could 
“face the music” week after week and fairly 
triumph. And to the delight of Connell, Winn, 
Ames, Ross, and the first section men generally, 
it was seen that Geordie was “ maxing ” steadily 
through, never losing a single tenth in infantry. 

“ Go it, Coyote, go it !” said Connell. “ By jim- 
miny ! there isn’t a man in the class that would 
begrudge you the first place if you can get it.” 
It was even queried whether Ames, to whom 
maxing in anything now came as easy as failure 
to some boys, had not deliberately “slouched off ” 
a couple of points so as to secure to Graham first 
mark in infantry ; though, just to make sure of 
his own place in general standing, he stuck to a 
solid line of 3’s in artillery, Pops following close 
behind. So far as marks were concerned, there- 
fore, Geordie was certain of high rank in the 
general subject, for he was as thorough in cav- 
alry as in infantry. Battery books alone pre- 
sented any novelty to him, and it was conceded 
that the June examination could not change his 
prospects. 

Meantime, too, as the spring wore on, the mem- 


268 


bers of the Graduating Class seemed to feel that 
it was due to themselves to behave towards Gra- 
ham with marked cordiality and regard. Any- 
body failing in this respect might render himself 
liable to suspicion of being in some way con- 
nected with the old Jennings clique; and no 
greater shame attached to any member of the 
corps now than that he had at any time been an 
associate of that fellow, or even guided by his 
opinion. On the other hand, to be pointed out 
as the one man in the corps who had “ knocked 
out ” that redoubtable middle-weight was honor 
that overtopped the chevrons of half the senior 
class. No one doubted that there were other 
fellows who could have “ bested ” the representa- 
tive of the “Sanguinary Second,” but he had 
wisely refrained from giving them opportunity. 
Feeling sure of Pops, he ventured once too often, 
and down went the star of his glory. 

May, with its sunshine and showers and long 
languorous days — “ the days of spring fever and 
spring fights,” as the cadets used to say — found 
the relations between Geordie and his company 
more and more cordial. All through the year, 
with absolute impartiality and quiet force, he had 
done his duty to the best of his ability, and Con- 
nell, with all his pride in “ old D,” was the last 
to claim for it a superiority over the color com- 
pany. Bend declared he never had to bother his 


269 


head about it at all. He marched it out to pa- 
rade or inspection, but his first sergeant looked 
to the discipline. Among the officers of the tac- 
tical department, too, there was no lack of ap- 
preciation of the way in which “ McCrea’s plebe ” 
had won his way up the ladder of promotion, 
and the relative position of the cadet officers for 
the coming summer was already a problem over 
which the corps was indulging in much specula- 
tion and the commandant in no little thought. 
The two finest positions, as has been said, are 
those of first captain and adjutant. The former 
commands the battalion in the mess -hall and on 
its way to and from the same, while the latter 
has the most conspicuous part to play at parade, 
guard-mounting, and the like. The first captain 
is assigned to the right flank, Company A, and 
his responsibilities are great. He requires dig- 
nity and strength of character beyond the other 
officers. The adjutant should be a model in 
bearing, carriage, voice, command, but his duties 
are more picturesque than formidable. As a 
rule, these high offices — the captaincies, adju- 
tancy, etc. — are given to cadets whose scholar- 
ship and class standing are also high ; for in the 
greater number of cases soldierly ability and 
character are there to be found. Yet it often 
happens that the head of the First Class is only 
a private in the ranks, and the senior captain or 


270 


the adjutant comes from the other end of the 
line. When graduation is close at hand, how- 
ever, the commandant makes out a list of the 
recommendations for the coming year, and this 
he submits to the superintendent. His wishes 
generally carry all possible weight. 

It rarely happens that the first captain is se- 
lected from outside the first sergeants of the pre- 
vious year, and in four cases out of five the office 
goes to the first sergeant of Company A. The 
sergeant-major in the same degree is looked upon 
as a sort of legitimate heir to the adjutancy. 
He has served as senior non-commissioned officer 
for a year, and yet has had no opportunity of 
command other than the few seconds required 
in forming the guard. He may never have given 
the command “ Forward, march !” He may turn 
out to have little or no voice, and voice is some- 
thing an adjutant must have. The first ser- 
geants, on the contrary, have constant use for 
their lungs and larynx and faculties of command ; 
and it used to happen quite frequently that to 
one of these, instead of the sergeant-major, the 
prize of the adjutancy was given. 

But there was no room for doubt in Benton’s 
case, said the corps. He was soldier in every 
word and action; stood one of the five — sure; 
had a rich resonant voice, that was good to hear 
in the cadet choir and a delight at the entertain- 


271 


ment given the fag-end of February — “ one 
hundred days to June.” No doubt, the plume 
and chevrons and sword-knot of the adjutancy 
would be his; “and no one,” said Badger and 
Coyote, “ would better grace or deserve it.” On 
the score of the first captaincy they had less to 
say, but the battalion said a good deal. No one 
quite understood why, when Ames was dropped 
from third to sixth corporal, Wright had not 
been dropped from second to eighth or even be- 
low. He was a fine, tall, dignified fellow, mass- 
ive of voice and slow of movement, and a very 
hard student. He was “dad” of the class, but 
no longer stood in the 5’s. He was a fine-look- 
ing corporal and would have made an admirable 
color-bearer, but his impressive dignity was what 
lifted him so high at the start ; and, acting as 
first sergeant of Company A in their yearling 
camp under a famous captain, he made no serious 
failure, but could not compare with either Gra- 
ham or Connell or Winn as a drill -master. He 
was made first sergeant of Company A, how- 
ever, at the outset ; and as he was methodical 
and massive, things looked all right ; but it soon 
became apparent that all manner of “breaks” 
could happen before his eyes and Wright never 
see them. More than that, roll-call with him 
was a very perfunctory affair. Time and again 
he faced about and reported, “All present, sir!” 


272 


when one, two, and even, as once happened, six 
of his company had slept through reveille. Dis- 
cipline couldn’t help running down in Company 
A; and when recitations in tactics were about 
half over, it became evident that Wright was 
nowhere, compared with Graham and Benton, 
Ames and Connell, and a dozen more of the 
class. 

“ If Wright’s made first captain, he’ll go to 
sleep some day, and the corps will march right 
away from him,” said his own cadet captain, 
who was a frequent sufferer from his sergeant’s 
lapses. “ Still, he has the prestige of being first 
in Company A right along, and nobody can say 
what Colonel Hazzard or the Supe may do.” 

But it was decided soon enough. 

Back from the beautiful grove, one exquisite 
June morning, marched the jaunty battalion, 
each graduate bearing in his white -gloved hand 
the diploma he had just received in the presence 
of the revered old general-in-chief, who for the 
last time addressed the eager audience in cadet 
gray. Once more the line reformed in the shade 
of the massive elms in front of barracks. Gray- 
and- white and motionless, it faced the tall plumed 
figure of the cadet adjutant, unfolding the last 
order. Eagerly, impetuously a throng of visit- 
ors — men and women, girls and boys — came scur- 
rying after and grouping breathlessly among the 


273 


trees, all eyes on one form, all ears on one voice. 
Though he win the highest honors in the high- 
est corps in the army of the United States, not 
for many a year will that young gentleman be 
again the centre of such absorbed and universal 
regard. Quickly he rattles through the orders 
for the dispersal of the Graduating Class. Who 
cares for that ? They all know that beforehand, 
anyway. They’ll be out of cadet uniform and 
into cit’s in ten minutes from the word “Break 
ranks!” Here’s what all ears are striving to 
hear. Listen : 

Headquarters United States Military Academy, 

West Point, N. Y., June 11, 18 — . 

Orders. 

No 

1. All appointments hitherto existing in the 
battalion of cadets are hereby annulled, and the 
following substituted in their stead : 

To be captains : 

Cadets Graham, Connell, Ross, and Winn. 

To be adjutant : 

Cadet Denton. 

To be quartermaster : 

Cadet Ames. 

And now Pops is conscious that the trees are 


274 


swimming and he is getting dizzy. First cap- 
tain ! first captain ! He f What will not mother 
say ? What will not Bud say ? It is almost in- 
credible. But he gathers himself as the adjutant 
runs down the list. He sees the smile in Bend’s 
kind face as his loved friend and captain faces 
about, and for the last time says, “ Dismiss the 
company !” Mechanically his hand snaps in to 
the shoulder in salute, as for the last time he 
jumps the old rifle up to the carry, then steps 
to the front and faces to his left, and finds a 
frog in his throat as he gives the order, for the 
last time, to the company he has so well handled 
throughout the year, “Carry arms!” “Arms 
port!” “Break ranks, March!” and then is 
swallowed up in the cheering, hand - shaking, 
uproarious rush of the whole battalion ; is lifted 
on the shoulders of a squad of stalwart fellows, 
faithful Connell among them, and borne trium- 
phantly down along the road, and a lane is made 
through the gang of tossing shakoes, and sud- 
denly a lithe little dark -eyed fellow, in natty 
suit of summery cits, sends a white top-hat spin- 
ning up into the overhanging elms, and clasps 
Geordie’s right in both his dainty kid -gloved 
hands. “ Pops, dear old boy, nobody’s gladder 
than I am !” 

And indeed Frazier looks it. * 


CHAPTER XVIII 


What a wonderful summer was that of Geor- 
die’s First Class camp ! To begin with, even the 
graduates had helped shoulder him through the 
sally-port after the announcement of the new ap- 
pointments, and then turned out in their civilian 
dress, with canes and silk umbrellas and all man- 
ner of unaccustomed, unmilitary “truck,” and 
cheered him, as for the first time he swung the 
battalion into column and marched it away to 
the mess-hall ; and the new yearlings sliced up 
the white belts he wore that day and divided 
them among their number “ for luck,” and many 
an appeal came for the old first-sergeant chevrons ; 
but Pops shook his head at that. They went off 
by mail far out across the rolling prairies to 
Fort Reynolds, where, in his letter to mother, a 
few modest words told of the high honor con- 
ferred upon him, and that he “ thought it should 
go to Con.” Buddie never waited to hear the 
end of that letter. He bolted, hatless, out of the 
house and down the line of officers’ quarters to 
tell McCrea, shouting the tidings to everybody 
he saw as he ran. And McCrea came over to the 


276 


doctor’s forthwith, and Captain Lane and his 
charming wife dropped in before the family 
were half through tea ; and the colonel came in 
later to congratulate Mrs. Graham, and so did 
many another wife and mother during the even- 
ing, and it was a season of joy and gladness not 
soon to be forgotten, and who shall say what 
volume of praise and thanksgiving and gratitude 
went up with the loving woman’s prayer when 
at last she could kneel and pour out her heart 
all alone. Indeed, it seemed, especially to Bud- 
die, an event of much greater moment to the 
friends on the frontier than it did to Geordie. 
His first concern was for Connell. Wright, of 
course — big, ponderous fellow, moving slowly, as 
big bodies always do — could not be expected to 
come at once to congratulate the comrades who 
had stepped over his head. He was “ let down 
easily,” however, and made first lieutenant of the 
company instead of captain ; but he came over to 
shake hands with Graham and tell him it was 
“ all right,” and found that Connell had never 
left his chum from the moment the battalion 
was dismissed. Brushing his way through the 
crowd, the loyal fellow had almost fought a pas- 
sage to Geordie’s side. He could not bear the 
idea that Graham’s triumph should be clouded 
by fear of Connell’s disappointment. 

“ Why, Pops, honest Injun, I’d hate to leave 


277 


old D, now that I’ve got to know them all so well ; 
and I tell you candidly if I expect to land in the 
Engineers next June I want nothing to interfere 
with my studies meantime, and first captaincy 
is a powerful tax on a man’s time and thought. 
But even outside of that, old man, I believe you 
deserve it more and will honor it more than any 
fellow in the class.” 

And with such friends at his back, what young 
soldier would not feel pride and hope and confi- 
dence ? Then came the close of the examination, 
the announcement of class standing ; and Geordie 
had clambered out of the twenties and well up 
into the teens, standing second in drill regula- 
tions (as they are called to-day), third in discipline, 
well up in drawing, though still in middle sec- 
tions in the philosophical and chemical courses. 
Ames was easily head, Benton third, Ross fourth, 
and Connell fifth. And then came the order to 
move into camp, and our Geordie found himself, 
with his second lieutenant for mate, occupying 
the north end tent of the company officers’ row 
— the tent which, three years before, bucket laden, 
and with shoulders braced and head erect, he had 
passed and repassed so many times, never dream- 
ing he should become so thoroughly and easily 
at home within the white walls, into whose depth 
it was then profanation to gaze. 

Meantime, what of our old acquaintance Ben- 


278 


ny ? All through the months of his sojourn in 
lovely Nassau the boy had written regularly to 
the friend of his plebe days, and some of those 
letters were very characteristic — so much so that 
Geordie sought to read them to certain of his 
chums by way of preparing them for Benny’s re- 
turn ; but he found all but a very few members of 
the class utterly intolerant of Frazier. He had 
“ behaved like a cad and a coward,” said many 
of their number, taking their cue from Connell. 
It was all very well to write and prate about its 
being the turning-point of his life — starting all 
wrong — needing all this discipline and distress 
to set him in the right road. When he had re- 
turned and shown by his conduct that there was 
grit and manliness in him, all right; but the 
corps never did and never will accept a fellow at 
his own valuation. He must prove his worth. 
Benny Frazier might come it over tender-hearted 
women like Mrs. Doctor Brett and Mrs. Hazzard 
and Mrs. Other Officials and such dear old dames 
as Pops himself, but he must “ hoe his own row 
in the corps ” was the general saying. 

And so even Benny’s rush to congratulate 
Geordie and the impulsive sacrifice of that im- 
maculate tile had softened few hearts. Donning 
the cadet uniform and silently resuming his place 
in the ranks of Company B, Frazier strove to 
ask no favors and resent no coldness. He was 


279 


not tall enough to join the grenadiers of Com- 
pany A. There was something pathetic in the 
big dark eyes as he, a First Class man in years, 
but a no class man in law, stood irresolute in the 
company street the day they marched into camp. 
Yearlings and all had their tents chosen. There 
was no welcome for him. It was just as well 
that Mrs. Frazier obeyed her boy’s injunctions 
and kept away until late that summer. For a 
fortnight or so, until the plebes came into camp, 
Benny lived all alone. Then, assigned to a tent 
with Murray and Beed, two cadet privates of 
the class with whom he had never had dealings 
and by whom he was treated with cold civility, 
he made no complaint, nor did he seem to seek 
their better graces. But Pops never failed to 
hunt him up if a day went by without Benny’s 
coming to the first captain’s tent for a chat. He 
got Boss to give Frazier a seat at his table in 
Grant Hall, and would have interceded in other 
ways, but Frazier himself said no. “ I have head 
enough left to see that I have got to work out 
my own salvation, Geordie, and you can’t make 
them like me.” 

And so the humbled fellow kept his own coun- 
sel, hearing some pretty hard things occasional- 
ly, but saying nothing. The former terror of 
the plebes in nowise meddled with them now. 
Mourning for his father was sufficient reason for 


280 


not attending the hops which, despite his mana. 
gership, Pops himself very frequently failed to 
visit. It was lonely work going on guard as the 
sole representative of an absent class, but Fra- 
zier made no remonstrance. There were little 
points in which he could not overcome the sloth- 
ful tendencies of his earlier days. He was some- 
times late or unprepared, but he took his reports 
without a murmur and walked post like a man. 

The summer wore on. Up with the dawn, 
out in the sun and the breeze from morn till 
night, hastening from one brisk martial exercise 
to another, sometimes in saddle commanding a 
platoon in the roar and dash of battery drill, 
sometimes a division in the school of the battal- 
ion, sometimes at the great guns of the sea-coast 
battery, waking the echoes of the Highlands with 
the thunder of their report and the shriek of the 
shells towards Target Point, sometimes on the 
firing-line of the skirmishers, Geordie seemed to 
broaden with every day, and as first captain he 
was vigilance itself. “ Even in Hand’s day you 
never saw better order or discipline in the hall 
or in the ranks,” said Connell, “ and the best of 
it is, the battalion wants to do as he wishes.” 

“ Coyote & Badger’s a close corporation ” was 
yet the saying in the corps, and it was fun to the 
First Class to hail their senior captains by these 
Far Western titles. One thing that neither of 


281 


them would stand, however, was, that any un- 
der classman should refer to Geordie as “ Pops.” 
That pet name was reserved for the family and 
very intimate friends. 

Connell, to be sure, was one of the gallants of 
the corps all the summer through, and to Geor- 
die’s keen delight his Badger chum seemed to be 
universally popular in society, and though their 
tents were at opposite flanks, as were their posts 
in line of battle, they were seldom far apart when 
off duty. The two, with Benton, formed what 
Ames sometimes referred to as the Cadet Trium- 
virate. Benton made a capital adjutant, and the 
parades attracted crowds of visitors that, as Au- 
gust evenings grew longer, could hardly be ac- 
commodated. 

Benny stopped one evening in front of the 
tent to say that his mother would be up on the 
morrow. “ I have been calling at Dr. Brett’s this 
afternoon, and they expect their relief next week. 
They’ve been here four years, you know.” 

It set Geordie to thinking. Medical officers of 
the army are seldom if ever kept more than four 
years at any one station, and his father had now 
been at Fort Reynolds fully five. Nearly all his 
professional life had been spent in the Far West. 
Three or four years he had been shifted about 
so rapidly and continuously that it was in par- 
tial recompense he had been retained so long at 

19 


this big and pleasant post. “ It must be about 
time for him to be shifted again,” thought Geor- 
die, “ and now it’s bound to be somewhere in the 
Division of the Atlantic.” Odd ! not for a whole 
month had the subject been mentioned in any of 
his home letters. His father rarely wrote more 
than a brief note; his mother never less than 
eight pages ; and Bud’s productions, curious com- 
positions, were ever a delight to his big brother. 
But none of these had of late made any reference 
to change of station. How Geordie wished they 
might come East and visit the Academy now ! 

One week later, and the 28th of August was at 
hand. Camp was crowded, for the noisy fur- 
lough-men returned at noon, and were bustling 
about, making absurd pretence at having for- 
gotten how to get into their “ trimmings,” and 
calling for some generous Fourth-hearted Class 
man to come and aid them. Visitors were swarm- 
ing all over the post. Hosts of pretty girls had 
come for the closing hop, and the hotels were 
crowded to suffocation. 

“Your mother promised to ‘ sit out’ three 
dances with me, Benny,” said Pops, as he wound 
himself into his sash, cadet fashion, as the first 
drum beat for parade. “ Tell her I shall come 
early to claim them.” How he envied the boy 
his mother’s presence! Frazier nodded as he 
sped away to get into his belts, but with a light 


283 


in his eyes and a laugh in his heart — very little 
like the Benny of the year gone by. 

“ Does Graham make as fine a first captain as 
we thought he would ?” asked a returned fur- 
lough sergeant of one of the seniors, as they 
stood watching him quietly chatting with Ben- 
ton before the beat of the second drum. 

“ Tip-top ! I don’t think there ever was a bet- 
ter one. But from the instant he draws sword 
in command of that battalion he doesn’t know 
anybody.” 

Again the long line stretched beyond the 
flank sentry posts, and last parade in camp went 
off with the usual snap and spirit in face of 
hundreds of interested lookers-on. For the last 
time on that familiar sward the plumed cadet 
officers of Geordie’s class marched to the front 
and saluted the commander, then scattered to 
their companies, while the visitors hastened to 
the waiting vehicles on the surrounding roads. 
No time could be lost this evening. It was that 
of the final hop. Ten minutes later, rifles, sha- 
koes, and equipments laid aside, the battalion 
reformed on the color-line, the officers sprang 
to their posts, the field-music, still in full parade- 
dress and white trousers, took station at the left 
of the long gray line. Geordie whipped the light 
cadet sword from its scabbard, and his voice, 
deep and powerful, rang out the commands. 


284 


“ Continue the march. Companies left wheel, 
march !” 

Drums and fifes burst instantly into the live- 
liest quickstep. Eight beautiful fronts, each piv- 
oting on its left, accurate and steady as sections 
of some perfect machine, came swinging around 
into column. “ Forward, march / Guide right !” 
and then, “Column half right!” as the leading 
subdivision completed the wheel. And now away 
they go over the level Plain, heading for the leaf- 
embowered gap between the chapel and the old 
Academic, each subdivision led by its lieutenant 
commanding, Connell, Eoss, and Winn marching 
as field officers on the guiding flank, Geordie 
commanding all. Group after group of the gayly- 
dressed visitors opened out to let them through. 
The sword arms of the young captains brush 
close to dainty girlish forms those very arms 
have encircled in the dance, and pretty faces are 
smiling into the eyes of those swarthy, sunburned 
young warriors in whom it would be “ unmilita- 
ry ” to show sign of recognition now. The head 
of the column reaches the cross-road at the foot 
of the Plain, and, “ Column half left !” Geordie’s 
voice rings out across the level and comes echo- 
ing back from the gray walls beyond, and the 
groups of spectators fall farther back — all but 
one which, escorted by Colonel Hazzard and Dr. 
Brett, stands at the edge of the road at the path- 


285 


way just under the beautiful elms. A lady with 
soft blue eyes is clinging to the colonel’s arm 
and trembling, despite her every effort. Close 
beside her stands a grizzled, weather-beaten, sol- 
dierly-looking man in tweeds, one hand on the 
shoulder of a ruddy -faced young fellow who is 
evidently in high excitement. Just back of them 
Mrs. Frazier, her dark eyes brimming, is resting 
on the arm of Dr. Brett. Company after com- 
pany comes up to the wheeling-point and changes 
direction almost in front of them, and then, his 
eyes fixed on his leading guide to see that each 
sergeant in succession gets his trace the instant 
the wheel is completed, here comes the brawny, 
blue-eyed first captain. These returning furlough- 
men are apt to be a trifle careless in marching, 
and he means to bring them into shape without 
an instant’s delay. He seems to see nothing out- 
side his command, but when within a dozen yards 
suddenly he catches sight of the uniforms and of 
his colonel. Instantly, as soldierly etiquette de- 
mands, the blue eyes are fixed on the command- 
ing officer ; up comes the gleaming blade in the 
first motion of the salute, and then — then — what 
wondrous light is that that all on a sudden flames 
— transfigures the brave, sun-tanned face ? What 
wild amaze, doubt, certainty, delight, all in a sin- 
gle second, flash into his eyes ! What pride and 
joy ! what love and longing ! For there, so close 


286 


that he can almost hear the whisper of his name 
and feel the spray of the joy-tears that brim in 
her eyes, stands mother ; there stands Buddie, 
fairly quivering with eagerness ; and there stands 
his father, sturdily striving not to look proud. 
With every mad longing tugging at his heart and 
tearing him from his duty to her arms, he as sud- 
denly regains his self-control, lowers his sword in 
salute, as soldier should, and only quits his grasp 
upon the hilt and leaps to her side at the colonel’s 
smiling order : 

“ Fall out, sir ; Mr. Connell takes command.” 

“ If that wasn’t a low-down trick to play on 
Coyote, I never heard of one,” said Harry Winn 
that night at supper. “ Old Scad never evolved 
a harder test. Think of parading a fellow’s 
mother at the saluting point when he hadn’t seen 
her for a whole year, just to prove that he’s such 
a soldier he couldn’t forget himself even then.” 

There were lots of boys in gray who believed 
the whole thing was a “ put-up job ” to settle a 
bet among the officers, but they couldn’t prove it. 

Over the details of that meeting we need not 
linger. Ordered to assume the duties of surgeon 
at West Point, Dr. Graham was urged by McCrea 
and others to give Geordie no warning, but keep 
it all as a delightful surprise. Neither he nor his 
gentle wife, however, ever dreamed of its being 
carried to the point it was. That night when 


287 


Grant Hall was crowded, and pretty girls in the 
daintiest of gowns were dancing with cavaliers in 
gray and white, in blue and gold, or conventional 
black, when music and merry laughter and glad 
voices all conspired to banish care, there was one 
couple in whose faces — one so sweet, so tender, 
so full of pride in the stalwart son on whose arm 
she leaned — there shone a radiance that chal- 
lenged and then was reflected in every eye. 

“ She makes me think of Ailie in ‘ Rab and his 
Friends,’” said Lieutenant Allen, as he and a 
group of his fellows stood watching them slowly 
circling the room. 

Man after man of Geordie’s class came up to 
be presented by her big boy, whose cup seemed 
fairly overflowing. While Bud, painfully con- 
scious of the rapidly liquefying state of his first 
pair of kids, followed his brother with adoration 
in his eyes, and Mrs. Frazier, still in deep mourn- 
ing, could not deny herself the delight of peeping 
in from the arched entrance, where she and Benny 
stood for half an hour, “ just to see how happy 
Mrs. Graham looked.” 

Bless the mother heart ! How much joy there 
was for her after the long exile of the frontier 
and the three years’ separation from her first- 
born. Speedily they were settled in their new 
home overlooking the bright blue ribbon of the 
Hudson, winding down between its bold and 


288 


beautiful shores. From her windows she could 
see the front of the gray mess-hall, and day after 
day hear the tramp of the battalion as it came 
marching down and Geordie’s deep voice ringing 
out the words of command. She used to drop 
her needle-work and bustle Buddie, all too will- 
ing, from his lessons, and trip away to the Caval- 
ry Plain to watch the evolutions at squadron drill 
and see her boy — no finer horseman among them 
all — swinging his sabre at the head of the first 
platoon, or in the wintry days that speedily set 
in, slashing at the heads in the riding- hall, and 
with his nimble fellows wrestling, vaulting, leap- 
ing high hurdles, and easily accomplishing feats, 
bare-back or in saddle, that made her often shud- 
der and turn her eyes away. She loved to stroll 
out under the arching elms to meet him for a few 
brief minutes between evening drill and parade, 
and then watch him and Connell putting their 
splendidly-drilled companies through all manner 
of evolutions, as they marched them out to the 
spirited music of the band. She soon learned the 
ways of the corps, and loved to have a whole 
squad of the seniors down to tea each Saturday 
evening, and was sure to secure the presence of 
such young damsels as lingered about the Point, 
so as to make it interesting and joyous for his 
comrades. Perhaps she would have been less 
venturesome had she been less sure of Pops, but 







44 AND SEE HER BOY AT THE HEAD OF THE FIRST PLATOON 





















\ 













289 


the class declared, a Coyote is spooney over his 
mother and nobody else.” She had dreaded the 
day that was to take him from her arms to the 
Point. Now it seemed as though all too soon the 
day was coming that would take him from the 
Point, and from her, back to the far frontier 
he loved so well. The winter fairly flew away. 
The spring -tide came, and she almost wept the 
day the ice-gorge went whirling down the Hud- 
son and the whole corps cheered it from the 
banks above. And the thunder of the guns at 
the April drills, the volleying of the skirmish-lines 
in May, were sounds that brought distress to her 
fond heart, for they told of still another week or 
month passed by, and only a little space reserved 
in which, every blessed sun, she could have her 
big boy at her side. 

She went with many another to hear the June 
examinations. She would not confess it for the 
world, but if there were only a subject in which 
Geordie could be declared deficient and turned 
back to go over the whole year, she would have 
heard the order without a tear. He had done 
so well, however, that her friends assured her 
Geordie would be recommended for the artil- 
lery, into which he had no desire, however, to go. 
She had Mrs. Frazier with her now, and at last 
Benny seemed to be coming into favor again. 
He had asked no clemency. He had gone on 


290 


just as Geordie suggested, and, winning his rank 
in the 5’s of the Second Class, he won what was 
worth far more — a gradual restoration to confi- 
dence in the corps of cadets. 

And then McCrea came East on his first long 
leave, and, mind you, he, an old cadet captain, 
never lost one point of Geordie’s work as com- 
mander of Company A. One exquisite evening 
the long line formed for last parade. Many and 
many a tear -dimmed eye could be seen among 
the ladies looking on. The strains of “ Auld Lang 
Syne ” were too much for Mrs. Graham ; but she 
hung a little back, and by the time the brave, 
bright rank of sixty young soldiers came striding 
to the front to salute the commandant and re- 
ceive his brief word of congratulation to them as 
the Graduating Class, she was ready to smile up 
into Geordie’s face as he hastened to seek her 
first of all, and then, with his comrades, stand 
uncovered to receive the salute to them as grad- 
uates, tendered by the marching companies on 
their way to barracks. She sat well back among 
the throng of visitors and dignitaries on the 
flag-draped platform when, one after another, 
the class came forward from the throng of gray- 
coats to receive the long - coveted, hard - earned 
diploma. She saw Ames, “ as head of the school,” 
greeted with ringing applause by the whole bat- 
talion as he faced about to rejoin them. She 


291 


saw gallant Connell, third in rank, and sure, as he 
hoped, of the Engineers, turn again to his fellows, 
for the last time, to be followed to his seat by a 
storm of hand-clapping that told of the faith and 
honor in which they held him. And then man 
after man received his diploma, none lacking 
kind and cordial greeting from the corps, but 
arousing no such clamor as that evoked by Con- 
nell. Numbers twelve and thirteen and fourteen 
went back, each with his ribboned prize, and 
then her heart beat hard in the pause that pre- 
ceded the next name. She knew just where it 
would come; but how could she dream what 
would follow ? “ Graham !” called the secretary, 

and, plumed hat in hand, her Geordie rose, and 
with him, as one man, up rose the corps — class- 
mates and comrades, furlough -men, yearlings, 
and all. She never heard — I doubt if Geordie 
could hear — the brief soldierly words of the su- 
perintendent in all the tumult that followed. 
Pops bit his lip and strove to control himself, as 
he turned at the top step to “ face the music ” 
and to meet the eye of every member of his 
year’s command and such a whirlwind of cheers 
as he had never heard before. Springing down, 
he strove to regain his old place in their midst ; 
but there was Connell, shouting with the rest, and 
Benny, stamping and clapping and pounding, 
and somebody grabbed him on one side and 


292 


somebody else on the other, and away went his 
plume, and he threw up his hand waving silence, 
only to be cheered the louder, for up on the plat- 
form were bald-headed members of the Board of 
Yisitors, magnates of the staff, and McCrea and 
his friends, all applauding, too. For once and at 
last the corps defied their old first captain, and 
would not down. Buddie fairly cried with ex- 
citement, and the tears, unfettered now, rained 
down the mother’s cheeks. The doctor slipped 
away from the rear of the platform, and he was 
found pacing up and down behind the library 
just as they found him on the river-bank long 
years before, the evening of the last whipping 
he had ever given Pops. Geordie looked for 
him in vain when, a little later, the ceremonies 
over, he placed his diploma in his mother’s hand, 
and bent and kissed her cheek. “Keep it for 
me while I go to change my dress,” he whispered. 
“ You are the last to say good-bye to the gray. 
Come close to the first division, so that you may 
be the first to greet me in cits. And, mother, 
don’t you dare — don’t you dare call me lieu- 
tenant.” 

And so, leaving her with McCrea, laughing 
with a world of gladness, he broke away, his 
heart too full for further words, his eyes brim- 
ming at the thought of all the love and pride 
and blessing in her face, and up the steps he 


293 


sprang, halting one instant to wave his hand to 
her; then into the cool depths of the hall he 
darted, and we have had our last peep at the 
gray-clad form of Corporal Pops. 


THE END 






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